


Halloween Monsters

by CorsetJinx



Category: Shall We Date?: Wizardess Heart+
Genre: Contract?, Curses, F/M, Gen, Mention of Illness/Bodily Fluids, Minor Character Death, Personal Space Invasion, Summoning Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at different relationships, not all taking place on All Hallow's Eve. Mishaps, broken boys, impossible relationships becoming possible. - C</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I play Wizardess Heart with a different character in mind every time, I will add in the Main Character's name at the start of each chapter. Each girl is her own person, and her relationship with her boy will differ slightly from how MC is in the game. For the first chapter, we have Eleanor Thomas.

Randy- Incubus

According to the weathered pages of her spell book, the summoning circle was not only a complex connection of lines, curves and symbols, but the repercussions of mixing something up, omitting a word of the spell, or anything else she might be likely to do, could be very severe. She could wind up with something entirely different from what she’d wanted to summon, perhaps a cloud of Doxies that would misplace her herbs and break her dishes at the lightest, or at the absolute worst (what she was afraid of) a chimera or Manticore could manifest and devour her whole. The idea made her shudder, her hand quivering as she continued to draw the lines with painstaking care. Contracting a familiar was not an easy magic to use, all her parents’ books and the few words of wisdom she’d received from well-meaning members of the village had assured her of such.

She still felt that she ought to try, and now that the circle was mostly complete she had no excuse to back out now.

_Besides, if I can actually summon something small, like a Carbuncle, maybe I can get better with my magic and be accepted in Gedonlune’s Royal Academy._

The thought had been in her mind for some time now, since the passing of the previous year and her letters to the Academy went unanswered still. She’d thought that perhaps it was because she could barely even count as a novice wizardess, her only abilities in magic being able to speak to animals and small magical creatures and heal them of their wounds. Her father’s books provided ample study material, which plants were helpful or harmful when used in a poultice, what could be responsible for an upset stomach or inability to eat. She had even taken a season to learn how to deliver newborn animals with one of the farmers who brought their livestock through and sold produce at the village market. It wasn’t much, but it had been enough to earn her some coin or food in payment for her talents. If she could do this, contract a familiar and get better at her magic, then she could learn more and repay the village for helping her after the plague took her parents.

_This will work. I’ve done as it said and picked a spot free of obstacles, in open air. The circle looks… a little slanted, okay, but it should still be okay. And I remembered the incantation! It couldn’t go wrong, right?_

Wiping dirt off her fingers, the young woman stood and surveyed her work. The circle could easily take up the living space of the den in her small home, easily her size and a half in diameter. Sigils had been carved in all the appropriate areas, the marks a mix of colored paint and chalk. She hadn’t wanted to carve it directly into the soil, for fear that the magic might stick and pull something else into the relative peace of her backyard.

Satisfied, with her work, she let her feet carry her back to the half-circle of books laid out on a threadbare blanket; checking the pages once more in case she’d left any detail to chance. This was her chance- the weather was calm and perfect, the time of dusk and Halloween just minutes away. Everyone she’d spoken to had said that magic could be amplified during certain times of the year, and if she could make hers work, just this once, and summon a magical creature then it would all be worth it. She could do this.

Letting out a slow breath she stood, drawing her wand out from the pocket of her housedress. Facing the circle, she began to walk its perimeter once more, speaking the words she’d studied and committed to memory over the past three days.

She wasn’t powerful enough of a wizardess to use her own name as a summons for a magical creature, not like Serge Durandal, but she felt cautiously optimistic that the traditional incantation would work. As she walked, arm steady, wand pointing at the paint, the circle began to shimmer and glow. Soft at first, like the embers of a fire that faded at the hearth, but it slowly grew as she continued – pausing between words only where necessary to draw in another breath or to carefully pour a little more of her magic into the summoning. As she reached the other side of it, the glow had intensified into a steady light; shadows creeping out from the edges of the circle and she thought she saw her own briefly splayed across the outside of her house as she paced.

It was tempting to look, to stop and admire the effervescent display. It certainly counted as the longest spell she’d ever maintained and she could feel it starting to make her tired. The stream of light from her wand wobbled, thinning out as her concentration waned, and she hurriedly resumed her efforts. She didn’t want to fail now, not when everything was going as the book had described.

A breeze toyed with the hem of her dress and the pigtails of her hair, as it had when she’d been crouched down and drawing out the sigils meant to channel her call to her intended summon. Had it been so strong before? Had it been her imagination that there’d been a sound not unlike pages turning in a book?

_Wait…_

A weight settled in her stomach, mixing up her excitement and spreading doubt instead. Had she copied the spell correctly? The wind had been stirring, yes, and she hadn’t thought to mark the pages with anything to keep them still….

_Oh n-_

As if in response to the realization that had seized her, the circle flared brilliantly, motes of light rising from the ground to dance enticingly in the air. Rather than catching the dusky orange rays of the sun, they shone with a radiance not entirely fueled by her own magic – if she remembered correctly then this meant she’d already completed the spell, regardless if she’d forgotten to finish the proper incantation in her dazed state. She stood, rooted from head to toe, as the light grew brighter and more intense.

Whatever was going to manifest might not be what she’d meant to call out and now there was no way to stop it, she couldn’t turn and run, what if it came after her? Or worse, the villagers?

She should have studied barrier magic, then she could ha-

The thought was lost as a shape materialized in the center of the circle, blurry at the edges like she was viewing it through a foggy lens. It looked… pink?

She gasped as a pulling sensation gripped her within, draining the meager reserves of her magic entirely. It hurt, much more than the times she’d tried making a water jug levitate or summon a lightning bolt without proper rest and preparation. With nothing else to give, she felt a stitch develop in her side, her heart suddenly pounding like it wanted to escape the confines of her ribcage. She doubled over, one hand pressing into the ache that wouldn’t quite allow her to breathe properly, knees offering only a trembling resistance to the pull of gravity.

It wouldn’t stop, the circle and whatever was within kept pulling, kept draining what remained of her energy. She felt like crying, maybe she was crying because her vision had gone all indistinct and everything was a jumble of brightness and shapes.

She toppled, her wand splintering from tip to end, and knew nothing else.

 

It looked like he’d been called out to a quaint little house, small and in need of some repair but nonetheless charming. Ivy and flowering vines appeared to have claimed one of the walls, even in the falling night he could pick out that the color of the abode was a pale shade of blue with a faded coat of white for trim. Around him, motes of magical energy charged as light were going out, leaving him in the dusk. Behind him the copse of trees had gone totally silent, save for the wafting breeze that remained from nature itself, not the summoning.

Before him, a girl was curled up in the grass and dirt, her skin a shade of pale that could be referred to as ‘unhealthy’. He swept his gaze down, then around, idly scuffing one foot against the blackened remains of the summoning circle. There was no resistance, no magic to keep him contained to one place or stop him from leaving. Glancing back at the unconscious little lady, he could only surmise that she had been the one to call him up – but lacked the training or reserves to lay out a proper binding and barrier.

Letting a smile pass over his face, he stepped out of the circle, braced for anything that might attempt to root him in place or force his compliance. When nothing happened, his smile grew until it could be called a grin, amusement swelling through him along with the headiness of freedom.

The girl didn’t stir at all when he approached, not so much as a twitch. She wasn’t dead, her skin still warm to the touch when he laid a hand against her soft cheek. A wand lay not too far away from one of her hands, its core cracked open and wood splintered from end to end.

He restrained a wince, knowing that the tool was essentially useless to the young lady now.

Looking back at her, he took a moment to indulge in her appearance – no great beauty, but sweet-looking and seemingly innocent. Brown hair pulled up into pigtails tied off with a rosy pink ribbon, her eyelashes soft black shadows in the dark. Leaning in, he could hear her breathing, quiet and the littlest bit strained. She smelled sweet too, like she’d been baking earlier that day.

“I could just eat you up, you know.” He chuckled, tracing one thin brow of hers with the tip of his finger. She didn’t respond even when he ghosted the digit over her closed eye, her nose, or the tender flesh of her lip. Pleased, he scooped her up and twirled, letting out a loud, cheerful laugh. She weighed practically nothing! Her head lulled in the crook of his arm as he spun, yellow and pink dress temporarily plastered to her prone form by his movement. Still, he remained giddy when he eased to a stop, looking down at her with a mischievous smile.

Poor darling was utterly tapped out, so deeply asleep he couldn’t even sense her dreams to insinuate himself into them. It really was a pity, she just looked too cute asleep like this.

He wanted her. Wanted to be in her dreams and taste their sweetness, see if that semblance of innocence was real. Give her dreams that she surely hadn’t thought of before, ones that would keep her awake hours afterward.

Hunger gnawed at him and he dipped his head to place a kiss on her lovely pink lips, humming deep in his chest at the contact. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, but he could wait a little while. Magical exhaustion could only last so long, and the night was young.

As he walked, briefly noting the books spread out over a blanket, a glance confirming what they’d been for, his tail waving back and forth in leisurely passes. He only had to turn slightly to adjust the sleeping girl in his arms when at the door, but the knob turned easily and the door swung open. The scent of herbs and something sweet greeted him as he stepped inside, his eyes narrowing a little at the bright lamps scattered about. It was enough to provide decent illumination for a human person, unless they were particularly clumsy and ran into something.

From where he stood it was a few steps that would lead him into a small kitchen to his right, parted from the main hall by a counter which supported many potted plants and what he presumed to be dishes and whatever else. He could glimpse cabinets and what might be a small table. To his left, he could enter what must be a den-type area lined with bookshelves, a couch and coffee table that looked like it had been repurposed for… something. His view was blocked by a set of stairs leading up, from which he could catch a wafting scent of clean linen.

He took the stairs, humming a tune from bygone days in the back of his throat as he went up. At the landing he could see another hall, a door on the immediate left and another further down, to the right. There was a part in the wall that might be an alcove, but his interest was focused on the room which had the strongest remnant of the girl’s scent.

The left.

Popping open the door, he peered inside and took a moment to chuckle at the sight of all the stuffed animals. They lined a shelf or two on the wall, some clearly handmade and others of a slightly more worn appearance than others. Several were arranged on the bed, easily within arm’s reach should the little miss be lonely. The bed was made, pink duvet tucked in and white pillow resting on top of it just so. By the single window there were several candles in mason jars, a couple of them inexpertly colored.

Other than the nightstand by the small bed, the only articles of furniture was a wardrobe and a tiny vanity with a mirror that reflected the room faithfully.

Her presence was strongest here, enough that he could taste her magic.

Taste her.

She was sweet, as he’d thought. Here was where her hopes spun out from waking to dreaming hours, hard work giving out to sleep. Her desires revealed themselves in small glimpses – a want for company, acceptance, a bittersweet thirst for knowledge. It lingered in his mind and on his tongue as he moved into her personal sanctuary, shutting the door with one foot as he passed; laying her down on her little bed so he could poke around more.

Small wishes, dreams still tinged with childlike simplicity. To want greater skill, power, not for her own sake but for the benefit of a loose almost-family.

Not at all what he’d been expecting when the summoning magic had suddenly seized him, thrusting him out into the human world after so long abroad.

Still, it was a form of sustenance. And the more he knew the more he could play when she woke up.

He glanced at the supine wizardess, her breathing having evened out into natural smoothness. She no longer looked under strain, not now that his presence was strong enough to support itself without draining her further. Her slim chest rose and fell easily, on one hand her fingers curled into the duvet as if she were grasping something.

He couldn’t resist kissing her one more time, just to tease himself.  

 

Awareness nudged at her senses, mild enough that she was tempted to let herself slip back into the sea of sleep, but insistent in the manner it kept preventing her from giving in. She tried to lift herself enough to roll onto her side, hazily obeying the notion that, if she could reach a more comfortable position, she could pass out once more and be lost to pleasant nothingness. However, she couldn’t move more than to wiggle, her arms weighed down as if by lead and her hips felt… pinned?

Had she fallen asleep next to the wall and upset the stuffed animals on her bed?

Something brushed against her forehead, then her cheek, down her jaw to the sensitive area along her neck. It felt warm, whatever it was left a wisp of hot air over her skin. The sensation made her shiver, once again trying to move, and still meeting resistance. She forced her eyes to open, wondering what could be restricting her and found herself peering up at…. A person?

_Wha-?_

A man’s face filled most of her vision, and she found herself suddenly _quite_ awake. Soft-looking pink curls atop his head, parts of it held back by… barrettes? A pair of curving horns extended from his skull, from some point just behind his ears; notched and whorled similar to a goat’s. Pink-gold eyes looked down at her, wide and projecting the innocence of a child, the lashes finely contrasting the unusual color. He had a sloping nose and a sweet, smiling mouth. A smile, she noticed, that only grew once she realized he’d known she was staring.

Something flicked in the air behind his head, drawing her eyes away from his handsome face. A tail, thin and black, and tipped with a spade made lazy to-and-fro motions like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. She watched it, hypnotized, much to the stranger’s obvious amusement.

She’d been alone before, in her backyard, attempting to summon a familiar to contract. She could remember the brilliantly glowing circle, the pain in her side as her magic had run out… and a glimpse of something pink amidst all the chaos before she’d fallen unconscious.

_Don’t tell me… Just what did I summon?!_

“There’s no need to shout, Eleanor. I can hear you just fine.” His voice startled her, pleasantly mild and nearly sing-song. The pace of his tail increased for a beat, swishing twice before curling in on itself to make a loop. Before she could respond, question him, anything, he leaned closer; her heart skipping a beat or more as he came closer. He nuzzled the side of her neck, wisps of cotton-candy hair tickling her skin, his head tilted just enough to keep his horns from dragging against or hurting her.

She realized, then, that the weight preventing her from moving was him, his large hands flush against her own, fingers between hers; her hips bracketed by his thighs. And he was warm, very warm.

“Rather than a squeaky Carbuncle, aren’t you pleased to have me instead?” He sounded so pleased himself, she’d almost swear that he was purring. Something heavy and warm stirred in her stomach when his nuzzling continued, following the side of her neck up to her jaw. She gasped when he kissed her there, louder when something hot and wet grazed her earlobe.

Had he..? Did he just..?

“Wha- what? I d-didn’t... I didn’t summon you!” She jerked her head away, dismayed that she really couldn’t go that far, not with him on top of her like this. When she looked at him, she saw a pout had settled on his face, his warm eyes half-lidded and mouth drawn into a purse. The expression shifted into a smile though, and he cocked his head to the side, almost seeming like a child again. It was only ruined by the heat returning to his gaze and the mischievous smile.

“Oh but you did. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t, Eleanor.” This time he leaned in close to her face, regardless of how she sank as far as she could into the mattress in an attempt to escape. His nose bumped hers, gently, and her heart fluttered again. “I’m sure that we’re going to have _so_ much fun together.”


	2. Luca Orlem- Grim Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A remote village and a job he doesn't want any part of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC is Arum Pendergast. My apologies if Luca is OOC in this, I'm still very early in his story. I hope it will be enjoyable nonetheless.

Luca- Grim Reaper

If Luca had the opportunity to be completely honest, he’d have told the old man that he didn’t want to head off into some rural, back-end of nowhere town to complete the month’s quota of work. Not that his guardian would have listened, of course, but it would have improved his mood a little if he’d been able to speak his mind. As it was, this little place was just about what he’d been told and expected on his own: quiet, moderately tight-knit, and surrounded by a thick forest of trees. The buildings were in mostly good repair though, he could give them that, and the smells that drifted from some open windows tickled his stomach into announcing that it wanted food.

He was happy to oblige, picking a place at random that looked like it served the public and letting himself in. Warm air washed over him with eager fingers, driving out the nighttime chill. People of all ages were sitting in groups, families with families and children occasionally running about with barely controlled chaos. Older teens sat further towards the back, giving up the warmer spots by the fire to the elder generations. Some of them glanced up when he came in, watching or looking away as he pushed the heavy oak door closed after himself, close enough to hear the slight squeak of an unoiled hinge.

Tossing his head back and shaking it to get the hair out of his face, he took a quick look around and squirreled himself into a seat by one wall, thankful that he could still feel the warmth of the fire from his acquired spot. A giggle reached his ears and he looked up from removing his cloak, catching the eye of a girl not more than five and sending her a wink. She laughed into her tiny hands, brown eyes lingering on his face, or more likely his earring, before she was called back to her mother’s side. A woman drew his attention away from the child with a light clearing of her throat, he obliged and met her gaze with his best ‘I’m harmless, nice to meet you’ smile. “Late to be travelling, son. You headed somewhere?”

She was stocky, salt-and-pepper hair braided and wrapped up as a bun at the back of her head. Her face was kindly enough to remind him of some of the ladies he’d met in the previous city, the ones who liked to made jokes about young men like himself and send them off with a spare Lune or two to get themselves something nice.

He kept his voice smooth when he responded. “Something like that. My teacher sent me out on an errand he couldn’t run and it took longer to get here than expected.” At that she nodded sympathetically, murmuring about bad roads and inclement weather. As if those things were the ones that bothered him. “Would you be able to tell me where the magic crafts store is?”

A twinkle entered her eye as he asked, but she nodded, wiping her hand on a towel hooked into an apron. “That I can. Just three blocks down this road and to your left you’ll find it. Closed now though, so you’ll have to wait until morning.”

He smiled up at her and crossed one leg loosely over the other, nodding. “Thanks. Might I trouble you for one more favor?”

“Shoot.”

“What would you recommend to a tired, chilly traveler to eat?” He upped the smile, pleased when she laughed, deep and from the belly. “You’re good, boy, I’ll give you your due. There’s still some stew left and I’ll get you something warm to drink, how’s that?” She watched him, a hand propped on her hip and he conceded the act sheepishly, one of his own hands rubbing the back of his neck. “That would be great actually. Thanks.”

As she walked away, the front door swung open and he saw a head of flaxen hair peek in. The owner quickly followed, pushing the door shut with a hand before fast walking to a counter further from the crowd of guests and speaking with the man there. A few heads turned, a lull in conversations occurring and he found himself watching their interaction too. The man behind the counter nodded twice then ducked down, out of sight, only to reappear with a bottle in hand. The newcomer passed the man a small purse and took the bottle, nodding once to something he said.

Then they turned and Luca felt himself raise a brow.

Part of her face was obscured by her cloak, but he did see that there was a streak of dark brown in her hair, an odd contrast to the rest of it. She had it pulled back, a ponytail or a braid he wasn’t sure, but she spared a glance towards the rest of the room with a tired, determined expression. Her eyes were an orange color, and he did a double take just to be sure it wasn’t an odd reflection from the fire.

Then she walked just as quickly towards the door and disappeared once it was open. When the wood slid home, people resumed their talking.

His lantern hadn’t flickered, so he wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing.

“Best not to stare, son. She’s just had a hard time of it lately is all.” The older woman had returned, a bowl in one hand and a cup in the other. He took them both with a word of thanks, apparently surprising her by serving himself. Her expression softened though, once he smiled.

“Hard time of what?” He couldn’t resist asking. If there was anything interesting in this tiny place, he wanted to know about it. The stew had a nice smell to it, reminding him that not all food was as boring as what the old man liked to cook most of the time.

“She’s about the only wizardess in town that knows healing magic. She’s been taking care of the apothecary, Mrs. Hamel, but the old woman’s not getting any younger.” Her voice dipped at the mention, eyes turning away from him and corners of her mouth creeping downward. He felt a mild twinge in his chest but pushed it away, instead scouring his memory for a name that might be similar.

_Hamel… Not really common but it might be in the book._

One of many in the book, if he let himself admit it. And if this lady was the only apothecary there might be a chance he’d be here longer than the old man had initially thought, depending on who else might be available to help the sick.

“Well, that does put a bleak note on the evening.” Wiping his mouth, he offered a softer smile this time – pleased when it seemed to make the woman’s mood perk a bit. “If I’ve got the time, maybe I’ll try and help. Can’t say I know much healing magic though.” The last bit he allowed to trail off, masking it with passing a hand through his hair.

“Not sure if she’d let you help then, but it’s the thought that counts.” The twinkle was back, and she nodded to his still mostly full bowl. “Eat up and see about getting yourself a room for the night. I’ll take those when you’re done.”

She sidled off after he nodded, heading back to where he supposed the kitchen was. Done with people watching for the moment, as his lantern hadn’t reacted to anyone within the vicinity, he busied himself with his dinner. It really was good.  

 

The walk had woken her up some and she was happy to see that everything was still alright when she crossed the threshold to Mrs. Hamel’s home. Lamplight greeted her as she closed the door, warm and cheery and she let herself smile for no reason in particular. Leaving her cloak on the rack, she made her way through the storefront and up the stairs, taking a right and knocking gently on the older woman’s door. A soft voice answered and she slowly let herself in.

“Julie? Are you still awake?” Peeking in, she could see the woman attempting to lift herself off the rise of pillows and hurried to help. Julie Hamel huffed out a sigh as she helped, carefully propping her against the pillows cushioning the headboard. The room still smelled faintly of body fluids, but she was so used to it now that it hardly bothered her stomach at all. “I’m sorry it took so long. The wind picked up since last I went out.”

Mrs. Hamel snorted softly and reached for the bottle still in her hand, uncorking it and taking a deep swallow. She watched with some misgivings, but didn’t comment.

“I was wondering if you’d blow away, that’s why I told you to stay here. Silly girl.” Voice rougher from the drink, the older woman nonetheless sent the wizardess a fond look from under her white brows. Wrinkles smoothed out over her forehead and mouth, taking away ten years when she finally smiled. “But I do appreciate you humoring an old woman.”

The laugh she made was only a little forced, catching at the back of her throat at the topic they were both dancing around. “Even if I did fly away, you know I wouldn’t leave for long. Someone has to keep this place in line. Not that I think I could do it any better than you.” She smoothed out her sleeves, rubbing her hands together to get a lingering chill out.

“Course you can’t girl, not with that wand of yours. Natural medicine is just as important, you know.” Setting the bottle aside, the senior apothecary drew herself up with a lecturing tone. It would have been more believable if she weren’t smiling. “Chant all the spells you want, but I’ll never discount what cures I’ve learned from what’s around us. Give me some broth and lavender and I’ll show you what heals the things that ail.”

The old argument brought a genuine laugh from the wizardess, her head tipping back as she let it bubble up and out. _It’s true_ , she thought, _I couldn’t even heal a minor burn once and she’s always known what to do. What to say._ Leaning back in her seat and moving her braid out from under her shoulder, she eyed the woman in her thick blankets and pile of pillows. Julie Hamel was the closest person she had to a mother, or an aunt, and she was going to miss her.

“May I have a sip?” Gesturing to the dark bottle the elderly healer had set aside, she waited for her ward to respond. It took the woman a moment to register what she’d asked, and her weathered face arranged itself into a look of disapproval.

“Course not, girlie. You’re too young to be drinking yet, least of all from a bottle I’ve put my spit in. You don’t want to get sick, do you?” The last part was delivered with deliberate seriousness. Though old, Mrs. Hamel had only recently fallen ill and neither of them had managed to rule out the cause as something communicable. That’s why she’d gone through so many gloves in the past few weeks, taking extra care if bodily fluids were involved.

“No. I’m sorry.” Orange eyes lowered, focusing on her hands, then, the woven rug that kept out most of the chill from the hardwood floor. The weave was ancient, colors muddied into a tapestry of browns and lighter shades of the same, mildly scratchy if it touched bare skin. So far as she knew, the woman had owned it for years and years, since before her husband had passed.

“Smile girl. I’m not dead yet.” She heard the sound of cloth rustling and swallowing. Obligingly, she raised her head and shot Mrs. Hamel a wry smile. Once she’d finished her drink, the old woman returned the look. “That’s better.”

They each leaned back, making small talk to pass the time. The girl felt her eyes begin to grow heavy and tried to force herself awake. Mrs. Hamel said something, she couldn’t quite hear, but she nodded back to show that she was still listening.

She wasn’t sure when her head lulled forward without her permission, but she immediately tried to right it. Closing her eyes just to blink, a thought occurred to her.

_It must be close to midnight.._  

 

Of all the things he’d expected to see, a vigil wasn’t one of them. Luca had consulted his book, turning the faintly yellowed pages until he’d found the correct name and double checked to make sure it was the right one. It was, one Julie Hamel. Born ninety-two years ago in this same house and married twice, both spouses having passed on. She was listed as having children, but they either lived too far to make the trip out or they didn’t care.

His lantern’s flame flickered twice, reaffirming that, yes, she was the one he was here for.

When he turned it to the flaxen haired girl sitting by the bed, the flame remained steady, barely wavering as natural flame would. A part of him was grateful for that, since it would be a shame for a cute girl like that to be on his list so soon.

Then, her eyes opened.

He stared at her, absolutely, one hundred percent sure that he’d laid a sleep spell over the place when he’d arrived. She stared at him, or at least at his lantern as she processed what it was. In the light that played over her face, he could appreciate the reverse witch’s streak that ran through her hair, brown against pale blonde. And her eyes were orange, and now they most certainly were focused on him.

She was on her feet and pointing her wand at him like it was a sword in record time, face set into a determined mask as she put herself between him and the old lady.

Part of him thought it was touching, now that the novelty of her being resistant to his spell had worn off somewhat. The other part of him dominated the vote and he let a soft laugh escape, shoulders shaking. The lantern shook a little in his grasp, flame steady as it faced her. He knew it and the room’s lamps probably reflected off the scythe on his back, but the cute wizardess didn’t back down.

“You think you’re being funny, wearing that getup? It’s a poor sense of humor you’ve got there.” Tightening her grip on her wand, she braced herself to cast. Her voice was low, maybe attempting to sound threatening, but he had to give her points.

Waving a hand dismissively, he reattached the lantern to his belt, grinning slightly as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Look, it’s not like I can do much about the clothes. They just happen to be that way.” He gestured towards himself, arms loose and stance relaxed. If she wanted to make A Thing out of this he’d humor her until she ran out of steam. The old woman hadn’t even stirred once, and he was pretty sure that she wouldn’t.

“Besides, you don’t even know me. How can you say my humor’s bad if you’re the one being hostile? Can’t a guy do his job in peace?”

He took a step forward, idly tucking his hair behind one ear. The stone of his earring felt cool against his skin, as it always did, but he noticed that her eyes went to it for a second. Focusing on his face again, he watched as her face hardened further.

Luca felt his patience get a little thinner.

“Listen, you don’t want her to go. I get it. No one’s ready for that sort of thing.” He spread his arms out in a shrug, canting his head to emphasize his rueful smile. “But according to my boss and this here,” he tapped one finger gently against the top of his lantern, feeling the absence of heat from the flame, “she’d ready. You wanna say your goodbyes then now’s the time, because she’s gonna come with me.”

Maybe it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but he wasn’t good at this part. The clinging relatives or upset friends and colleagues. Admittedly, he didn’t have as much in his book as his guardian did, but it seemed like there were always tears and pitiful pleas for him to give them more time.

Like he had any control over that.

He tried not to push the issue as she stared at him, her eyes examining his face, his person in general. The scythe was definitely real, he could see her process that much. Maybe if she were a wizardess of some power she might be able to sense just what it was, what it could do. That he was part of the real thing, much as he hated it most of the time.

She hesitated, then carefully lowered her wand hand. Shuffling her feet into a less aggressive stance, she turned her head just enough to glance at the biddy behind her.

Resting his weight on one leg, hand on one hip, Luca watched her consider whatever it was she was thinking. There was a shimmer in what he could see of her eye, and inwardly he dreaded when she’d start to cry. But her jaw just tightened, her shoulders pushing back and giving her maybe an extra inch or so in height.

She’d come up to his chin, he guessed, if they were standing close to each other.

“Will it hurt her?” She looked at him sharply, eyes fierce.

_A regular knight in shining armor._

“Nah.” He tipped his head back to draw her attention to the scythe. “I don’t have to use this unless someone decides to fight it and go the hard way. Or, you know, they’re a bad person.” He could see the scoff building in her expression, but she pushed it down, reluctantly satisfied. She stepped aside, glancing one last time between him and the old lady before sitting in her chair again. Her hand was still tight around her wand, like she couldn’t quite let herself relax her hold.

Well, it wasn’t his problem, he supposed.

Detaching the lantern, he prized it open once he was standing over Mrs. Hamel, murmuring softly to the spirit waiting within the woman’s mortal shell. He saw something, still, even now he couldn’t quite describe what it was, shifting within the sleeping woman until it rose to meet the lantern’s flame.

Something colorless and pure, finer than a gossamer thread merged with the flame and he closed the lantern with more care this time.

When he turned, thinking to try the sleep spell again, he saw that the younger girl had turned her head away from the scene. Liquid caught the light and reflected it from wet trails down her face, and her lip was firmly tucked between her teeth.

Guilt momentarily struck him, and he dug around in his pocket.

“Hey, have you remembered to eat?” She looked up at the sound of his voice, eyes wet but gaze unwavering as he held up a red apple. From the way she stared at it, he could guess that this wasn’t the turn she was expecting in the conversation. “You look like the kind of girl who works too hard. You should eat.”

He tossed it to her, an easy flick of the wrist. She fumbled with it, dropping her wand in her lap in order to catch the fruit. When he chuckled, she sent a small glare up at him, buffing the apple on her sleeve in a practiced motion. “Should I even trust what the Grim Reaper gives me?” She glanced at the body resting in the bed, then quickly away, mouth turning down.

An idea spurred him on, closer, and he was leaning over her before he really thought about it. She only shrank back a little, free hand gripping the arm of her chair. Face upturned to keep eye contact with him, she almost reminded him of a kitten. Maybe it was her large eyes, but they widened a little more when he brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Well if you eat the seeds then I’ll have to take you with me. It wouldn’t be for just half the year though, if you follow.”

Pink cheeked, she smacked his hand away – looking ready to either hit him in the face next or club him with the apple. He stepped back, giving her space and doing his best not to look concerned with the cooling body next to them.

_Smooth, hit on her after I reap her friend._

“What’s your name?” He asked, glancing back at her now that there was space between them again. She looked up from the apple in her hands, blinking like the question didn’t quite register. “Why? Shouldn’t you know it already?”

Shrugging, he slid a hand into a pocket. “Not really. Unless you’re supposed to come with me, I don’t get your name.” Was he supposed to tell her that? The old man always said to do his job and leave, not to linger. As if in response to the thought, he felt a pull from the lantern. A summons then. Someone else he had to lead to the other side.

It was disappointing, because he thought she might open up a little.

“Arum. Like the flower. You?”

“What,” he smirked, “no last name?”

She leveled another glare at him, pretty pink nails standing out against the red apple. “Does the Grim Reaper even have a name?”

_Touché’._

“Luca.” Her lips quirked, and he was right, she was pretty. “What, no last name?”

Scoffing in the back of his throat, he bowed extravagantly from the waist. “Maybe next time, Arum, like the flower. Just don’t be in a hurry, ‘kay?”

It was a shame he couldn’t see her face after that, lantern pulling him somewhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Once again, feedback is always welcome! I may edit this one at a later date though.  
> I'll try and have the others on here and on Tumblr soon.


	3. Elias- Mummy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument with a Grim Reaper got him cursed, a chance encounter with a wizardess got him out... to an extent. Can he repay her kindess?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC for this chapter is Mami Hinters. She's perhaps the most level-headed of my ladies.

“Is this too tight?” Careful fingers wrapped the length of cloth around his leg, knotting where he'd instructed before. The color was not quite as it should have been, in his eyes too obviously new to be the wrappings he knew so well. It also had more give. He knew, in a distant way, that Mami had asked him a question; his eyes instead focused on the off-white cloth binding his limb, mind having gone to another place. Another time.

His surroundings were different then, multiple hands weaving the bindings tight around his body. Voices speaking over his. He couldn't move. He felt much too hot, wanted the bandages off, off this very instant..!

“Elias. Elias, hey. Focus on me, okay? I'm here.”

Voice. A voice. One, singular, no cadence of jeering laughter to be heard.

He blinked at last, finally seeing Mami's face as she peered up at him from the floor. The ties around his leg had been unwound, the limb now free. The cloth was still in her hands, but she dropped it once she was sure he was back.

A twist in his gut felt a lot like guilt for making her worry, mixing with defensive anger that she'd witnessed his moment of weakness.

“I can clearly see you. You don't have to state such inane things.” He pulled his leg away from her, folding his arms across his chest like a shield. From the corner of his eye he could see her frown, anger now turning against himself. As it usually did, in these moments.

Her voice was soft when she finally spoke, full of a patience he knew he didn't deserve.

“I'll toss these into my vet bag, if that's okay. Never know when I might need them.” She stood, leaving the edge of his sight and he felt himself pulled in different directions. To apologize, prove that it wasn't her fault that he'd... slipped, again. The other, still angry and raw, part demanded he stay silent. But he listened when she broke the silence again, further away this time, likely in the kitchen. “It's a quarter teaspoon of sugar, right? That's how you like it?”

Definitely the kitchen, he could hear the opening and closing of a cabinet, the careful clink of china on a tray. He knew that she was familiar with his tastes, but the fact that she was giving him space and the chance to gather himself meant more than he felt he could comfortably express.

“Yes, that's right.” He paused, slowly unfolding his arms and turning his head a little to look in the general direction she was. “Thank you.”

She would understand. Somehow she always seemed to.

When she came back into the den he was struck by the odd sight of her carrying a tea tray while in costume, white and black witch's dress tastefully snug on her body, fetching against her dark skin. The hat dangled loosely from its place on her head, edges of black trim blending in with her umber hair, the paler ends of hair just brushing the nape of her neck.

Heat crept over his face as he tore his eyes away, shifting in his seat. She set the tray down, passed him the cup and it was then he noted the small arrangement of divinity chocolates placed within easy reach.

Glancing at her, he felt his lips creep up into a tiny, hidden smile.

She really was too good to him, for all the trouble he'd caused her.

Stirring his tea, he tried to sound nonchalant as he spoke up. “Well, since I can't be a proper mummy for your party, what should we do?”

“Well, I suppose I could always attempt a spell that'll wind up turning you into a boar piglet and have to kiss you.” She winked at him, smiling even as he felt himself turn a deep shade of red. “It might make for a good party trick.” Lifting the cup to her lips she drank, smiling through his stammered protests. It wasn't as if he needed the reminder of that... accident. But she had improved since then, he could admit that.

And if she hadn't been passing by that day when he... was cursed, he might not be having this conversation. With her, or anyone for that matter.

Swallowing some of his embarrassment, he racked through his brain for ideas. His older brother, well, he'd claimed the vampire act for some time now. He didn't want anything to do with Grim Reapers or their symbolism, for a number of reasons. There was still the option of declining to attend but...

He glanced at Mami's face. She looked at ease, lovely in her costume.

She'd asked him weeks before if he would go with her, offered it as a chance to 'get some fresh air' after all his time recovering. Something to do before his brother arrived, while he was still 'Elias' and not 'Elias Goldstein'.

The idea occurred to him suddenly, he could have laughed aloud if he wanted. A solution so close that he'd missed it entirely.

Something must have shown on his face because Mami was looking at him, her dark brows raised a little. Schooling his expression into careful neutrality, he helps himself to a divinity. “It occurred to me that, while I'm.. uncomfortable with the binding aspect I could,” here he flushed, marginally tightening his grip on his teacup, “I could wear the other parts. N-not that it should matter much, it's just a small gathering. Right?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes had lit up from inside, she now sat a little straighter. She smiled at him, pushing her hat so that it obscured one of her eyes and suddenly the look was... He wasn't sure. There was something in her smile that set his chest aflutter.

“Thank you Elias.”

“I-Its nothing.”

 

By nine they were finished and closing up her house. The sky was darker than Elias had expected, but she explained that night came faster in Reitz around this time. He'd looked nervous, but nodded, light from her lantern glinting of the gold laying around his neck and arms. It caught the earring he was wearing and she just stared at him for a moment.

He looked far better than when she'd found him, the fact that he could stand to be in the open darkness gave her hope that he would be alright even when he... left.

Turning her head to hide the frown she felt on her face, she nodded towards the path stretching out towards the main road. For tonight it was lit, every so often flanked by enchanted lamps that cast a soft orange glow on the packed dirt and darkened grass. “We'll be a little early, but that's the best way in my opinion.” Looking back at him, she let herself smile and offer her hand. “That way you aren't crowded by people.”

His violet eyes widened when he saw her outstretched hand, glancing up at her face and then back down to the offered limb. Belatedly, she realized what he might be thinking. No one in town knew about him, she hadn't said anything other than she was taking care of someone while they recovered from an accident. If they showed up, holding hands, it could give the wrong impression.

Would it cause trouble for him, back home, if word got out?

Dropping her hand, she turned the shutter on her lantern, the flame inside going lower until it was a weak flicker. They wouldn't need it if they stayed on the main road and it would conserve fuel for the return home.

“Sure you're ready?” She smiled, keeping the expression soft.

Elias nodded, the loose bandages which fluttered around him like wisps of mist. They started out side by side, every once in a while she would see him looking at the lamps; light casting a warm glow over his pale skin. He looked... curious.

She thought it was cute.

“The glass works in the village helps make them.” From the corner of her eye, she saw his head turn. “Every year they make a few that are special and some are handed out as prizes. I think they're enchanted to keep the flames going until one in the morning. I've never stayed that late though, so don't quote me.”

“They're.. nice. Practical.”

She giggled into one hand. “You like practical things, Elias?” Turning her head, she noticed how he flushed, averting his gaze. The lamps made interesting shadows move over his form, enhancing the ones cast by the gently hovering wrappings.

“I-It's easy to admire them.” She couldn't tell if he was smiling or not, what with how he'd turned his head away to observe the objects in question. “They're.. beautiful. And they make ordinary things seem beautiful too.” He glanced at her, his profile surrounded by the orange glow of magical flame for a moment. “Does that sound ridiculous?”

“Not at all.” She turned her eyes to the path ahead, idly noting the movements of her feet. How her boots disturbed the dirt. “I think the ordinary things should be admired with the extraordinary. I'm glad that you can appreciate them too.”

He made a noise at that, but the silence which stretched out felt... comfortable. Almost like when they'd gotten used to being in close quarters with one another, after she'd found him.

She looked up, seeing more and more lights become visible in the distance. People were moving about, in and, presumably, out of costume. Getting things ready for the bonfire which would be lit later that evening, food stalls being set up with finishing touches. Here and there were children, chasing one another with toys or homemade masks. A few of the older kids were clustered together, whispering excitedly amongst themselves.

“Don't look so shy.” Catching Elias' look, she gave him warm smile. “I know it looks like a lot of chaos, and it is, but it's all good fun. Just enjoy yourself.”

“I know that.” He snapped, or tried to, his arms crossed over his chest in a gesture she now found familiar. It would have sounded more convincing if he could take his eyes off everything.

 

For all that Mami claimed they had arrived early for the festivities, the industrious bustle of the town made him hesitant to go any further. She'd said no one would recognize him on sight, so he could be anonymous for a little longer if he so desired. Then she went and said something as silly as to 'just enjoy himself'!

He hadn't the faintest idea of where to start. Curious eyes made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, though all he'd received thus far were complements on his costume. He felt himself becoming stiff, bracing himself for the inevitable question of his identity, the fact that it had yet to happen was relieving – he didn't have to worry about being addressed by his family name, or be compared to his older, more prestigious, siblings.

Mami lingered just on the edge of his sight, greeting people and once tossing candied apples for the younger children. She seemed to be at home here, which made sense, he had to remind himself. Just because she had been his sole company for nearly a month didn't mean she was his alone. These were people she knew, probably had grown up with; accepted as a member of a much larger family.

Elias watched her adjust her hat after chasing down a laughing boy in a devil costume, his squeal at being caught loudly echoing amongst all the other noise. He found himself chuckling into one hand, eyes crinkling as he watched her swing the little one around, her face warm and bright as she laughed. Several other people were watching too, older couples calling for younger ones to line up for sweets.

A sound like instruments being tuned caught his attention and he turned to look for the source, straightening with interest. Two men were tuning a cello and viol, tenderly adjusting the knobs above the neck until the sound was correct. He assumed that's what it was, to draw out such a look of easy satisfaction. Looking around, he didn't see any other instruments, but decided to watch them anyway. The thinner man, his beard a deep black, brought the viol beneath his chin and began to set his bow to string and play.

The cello player joined in shortly afterward, the sound low and... he wasn't sure how to place it. More mellow than he had expected, to be sure. People laughed behind him, some passing him by with nods of acknowledgment. Briefly, he caught a snippet of conversation about creatures- ones that could come out and terrify people if they strayed too far from the party. A woman huffed her disdain for the idea, but the rest was lost to him.

Compared to his home this was... inviting.

Patchwork, and only some seemed to have any magical ability of any sort but...

Would it be so bad to stay?

“Elias!” He turned at the sound of his name, brows lifting in surprise. Mami offered her hand to him, like she had back at her home, face alight with pleasure. “Come on, it's gonna start!”

“A-alright..” Reaching out, he closed his fingers around hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elias, darling, you gave me trouble. I hope, readers, you still enjoy these.  
> Feedback is always welcome!


	4. Azusa- Frankenstein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Halloween party is about to start, but a little more decorating couldn't hurt. After all, when's the last time someone checked the basement?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC for this chapter is Reece Killian.

The basement of the school was exactly what she expected, mostly being darker than her eyes could adjust to and full of dust. Reece held her collar over her mouth and nose, fumbling for her wand. While she had her doubts about what 'treasures' might be down here, she wanted to be optimistic about finding something useful for the Halloween party. Daring to step a little further into the room, she lifted her wand.

First, some light. Then she could decide what to do about the dust she was sure would be over everything.

“Lumen!”

A bright light began to shine from the tip of her wand, working up her hopes that the spell would work correctly this time. Almost as soon as the though occurred to her, the light swelled into the painful brightness of a lightning bolt – arching outwards from her startled figure and out into the basement. For a moment, she might have been able to see the whole place illuminated, if her eyes hadn't shut in a vain attempt to keep herself from being blinded.

Professor Schuyler was going to be so upset with her if she'd damaged something, she just knew it!

She flinched as the crash began to die off, hands pressed over her ears and the length of her wand pressed tight against her head. It took a few moments, but she worked up the courage to crack open one eye to try and survey the damage her spell might have caused. At first glance, nothing seemed to have changed. No fires, at least.

Cautiously, she lifted her nose and sniffed the air, grimacing at the scent of ozone.

But no smoke. So maybe she hadn't destroyed anything after all.

“L-Lumen..” She spoke softer this time, hoping that this time, it would work. When all that emerged from her wand was a gentle glow, Reece let herself relax. Holding her wand higher to maximize the light's reach, she started to pick her way through the large collections of clutter.

Desks were stacked together, their wood still dark in some places, grayed out by dust in others. What looked like shelves that might not be out of place in Professor Merkulova's office crept up on her left, piled with items she could only glimpse through the pale sheets covering them. Edging around them, she angled the light she was carrying to better illuminate the path. Something had been knocked over at some point, either by her spell or some visitor long forgotten.

She paused by the object, kneeling to try and discern what it was.

It looked wooden, maybe cherry-wood?, and it was looking like a door to a larger piece. Like a prop for a play or something. In the glow of her spell she saw shapes faintly glimmer on the dusty surface and reached her hand out to brush some off, hoping to read whatever was written, painted?, on it.

The texture was smooth beneath her hand, but the dust tickled her skin. She didn't recognize the initial writing, as it was in unfamiliar runes, but below it were words she could read. Leaning closer, spell-light making dark ink shine, she could make out 'Do Not-'

Something rustled, a second before something cold and stiff closed around her shoulder.

Her mind blanked and she screamed, dropping her wand as she tried to wrench herself away from the thing touching her. Something grunted in the darkness, low and menacing to her ears, and she bolted. Without her wand it was impossible to see but she ran anyway, banging her legs on things on the way out.

She grabbed the door when she found it, pulling it open and running through, up the stairs and into the bright daylight outside. A shout caught her attention, the familiarity of the voice making her slow down and look for the source.

Amelia waved at her, already jogging over with a concerned look on her face.

Belatedly, she realized just how silly she must look, bolting like a spooked Carbuncle in broad daylight. Stopping made the aches in her legs decide to announce themselves, sharp stings now vying for attention. It was the emptiness of her hands that distracted her the most, scattered thoughts now processing that she'd left her wand down there... with whatever it was.

“Reece, what happened? You look like Professor Schuyler was chasing you with extra homework.” The joke, well-intended, didn't really make her feel any better.

“There.. something grabbed me in the basement...” it sounded so silly now, she really wouldn't have blamed the older girl if she'd laughed. Well, she wouldn't like being laughed at honestly, but it would have been forgivable. “I got scared and dropped my wand when I ran away. I don't wanna go back cause...” She dropped her gaze, rubbing her arms.

“Do you think it was Luca?” The ginger haired girl brought a hand up to her chin, brows drawing together in thought. “I haven't seen him since he got roped into helping with the seating chart.”

Shaking her head, Reece glanced back in the direction she'd come from. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, no Luca coming up for a laugh at how easily scared she was.

“I don't think it was him, honestly. But I don't know what it was.”

“Well, we need to get your wand back.” Amelia set her hands on her hips, lips pursed. “I'll go with you, and if it is Luca, or someone we know, we'll give them a little payback. What do you say?” The upperclassman smiled, coaxing the other girl into returning it. It would be better if there were two of them to go back there, Reece could admit. And having it be Amelia made it seem a little less frightening. Drawing herself up, she took in a slow breath and nodded. “Okay. We can do this. Will you get in trouble with anyone if you go with me?”

“Nah. Klaus is just ordering people around, he won't miss one more.” Waving her hand dismissively, the older girl turned. “This way, right?” Nodding, Reece fell into step and listened to her friend's reassurances. Maybe it had been a prank by a Halloween monster, a malfe-cat even.

She could almost believe it.

 

The feminine scream still ringing in his ears, he stumbled, groaning at the overload to his senses. Sparks emitted from the bolt in his neck, briefly providing poor illumination. Several loud noises followed as the one responsible for the scream fled, banging into something once or twice in their haste. Cracking an eye open, he glared out into the dark. He had to blink several times to reassure himself that the bright light further out wasn't a hallucination, or at least, it was a stationary one. The light dimmed somewhat, or became smaller, and he realized that that must be where a door was.

Taking a careful step, his foot touched something, making it roll away. Squinting, he glanced down but saw nothing. Kneeling, he searched, stretching out stiff fingers for the first time in... He blinked. Was it months or years? When had he been awake last?

His fingers brush against something that felt like wood, his skin tingling from the contact. A magical instrument, one that had been used recently. Picking it up, he straightened. The type of magic felt identical to the spell which had woken him, restarting his heart for the first time since his rebirth as this.. thing.

Pushing it from his mind, he began to shuffle towards the light at the other end of the room. From the dank taste of the air, he could assume it was an area underground, and with the amount of miscellaneous things cluttered about, it could be a holding place for storage. His knee locked and he hissed, leaning on something covered in a sheet of cloth. Dust tickled his mouth, the back of his throat, and he wondered how dusty he was inside.

To think he'd come here for help, only to be put away like a piece of furniture...

Waiting for the limb to relax, he counted under his breath, eyes closing and leaving him in a more familiar darkness. He could smell other scents besides the chill of the area, the age. Sandalwood, very faint, but it clung to his yukata still. The tie around his head had no extra scent, but the familiarity of it soothed him. Lifting one hand, he lightly traced the stitches running over his skin, the metal teeth winding around his neck and zig-zagging down his chest. The patch of skin below his shoulder felt different from the rest, and he let his hand fall back to his side. Testing his leg to see if it would hold his weight, he chanced another step forward.

It wouldn't do to think of things now past. Not when that person had done all they could.

Now that he was moving, he could appreciate the strength of the spell which had woke him. Magical electricity, it seemed, was more effective than the process which had been used on him in the past – though he wasn't sure if it had something to do with that person's own power if it was true that the practices of Gedonelune had an edge over those in Hinomoto.

Was he even in Gedonelune? Or was this someplace else, further from his goal?

He reached for the door, squinting as the light brightened with its opening.

Stairs greeted him, leading up to what looked like a hall or a corridor of stone. He let the door close behind him, awkwardly shuffling up the steps. He would need to move around more in order to get his body in proper condition, a task he looked forward to and dreaded.

Startled gasps echoed above him, his head snapping up and eyes narrowing at the culprit.

Two girls, young women really, were staring at him. One had a pile of orange-red hair tied back from her face, eyes of nearly the same color comically wide. Her companion had the same expression, mixed with fear; vibrant red hair messily tugged into a loose braid that seemed to end at the back of her head. Both wore a kind of uniform, blue with a.. vest, was it?, underneath of white and gold, white pleated skirts short enough to make his brows lift a little.

“W-wha-” the one with the darker hair couldn't seem to get her voice to obey, her hand twitching at her side as if reaching for something. “Y-you're the one that was down there?!”

Glancing at the wand he held, then at the object the taller girl was holding, he felt it safe enough to guess that she had been the banshee he'd tried to speak to once he'd woken up. Which meant the wand was hers, and, presumably, so too was the spell which restarted his heart.

“Who are you?” The question brought his attention back to the fluffy-headed girl, her face now set with determination. Her fingers had tightened on her wand, he noted, like she thought to cast if he was a threat.

It took some effort, his tongue grossly dry inside his mouth, and his throat no better, but he managed to croak out a question. “Would this be yours?” Holding up the wand, now in the light, he could see the swirls of the wood, minor embellishments which almost reminded him of leaves on a flowering plant. It drew the attention of the ladies, in particular, the darker haired one. “It was on the floor, after someone felt the need to scream.”

Her face darkened with embarrassment, and seeming to forget her fear of him she marched directly into his personal space and tugged the wand from his hand. The top of her head was barely level with his chest, but she glared up at him as if they were eye-to-eye. “I only screamed because you tried to grab me! Anyone else would have if that had happened to them in the dark.”

“My sincerest apologies.” While his voice still sounded terrible, he put as much honey into it as he could, tugging his lips up into his sweetest smile. “I had just woken up, you see. I hadn't meant to cause you harm.”

Confusion fought with her anger, each emotion plain as day on her freckled face. Her companion stepped closer, glancing at him as she tugged on her friend's arm to get her to step back. “Woke up? You were... sleeping down there?”

She sounded suspicious, rightly so.

At least one of them appeared to have some sense.

“Yes. I came here seeking the help of a person here.” Straightening, he let his eyes move around, taking in the corridor and the open courtyard beyond. “This is Gedonelune Royal Academy, I hope?” Looking at her, the girl frowned, but nodded. Relief bubbled up within his chest, and this time his smile was a little more real. “Ah. So it seems the journey was not made entirely in vain.”

“Who were you looking for? And... are you.. uh, okay?” The girl who'd taken her wand now examined him freely, obviously uncomfortable and aware, acutely, that he was not 'okay'.

“A wizard named Randolph. He is,” he paused, correcting himself, “or was, supposed to be the Headmaster of this Academy. As for my condition...” He smirked, not entirely able to stop himself from making the expression, one hand idly touching the bolt, the stitches, the metal teeth holding him together. “I am as well as can be expected. Though, it was your spell which woke me, yes?”

If he'd thought her face was red when he mentioned her screaming, it was nothing compared to now – part of him wondered if it was possible for her to faint from flushing so much.

“I.. Yes, it was me.” Her gaze dropped to the ground, guiltily, then lifted again. “I was only trying to make a light, and then it backfired... I'm sorry if I hurt you.” The regret was genuine, for all he'd apparently scared her when he'd moved.

Still, she'd bungled a spell as simple as conjuring a light..?

“You didn't. Quite the opposite, in fact. Otherwise I might still be down there.” Spurred by impulse more than anything else, he took several steps forward and took her free hand, lifting it up to his lips. She didn't resist, an odd sound slipping from her mouth when he kissed her knuckles.

Beside them, her friend began to snort with laughter.

 

“A-Amelia! Stop that!” Reece tried tugging her hand from the man, surprised when he let her go, just like that. Instead, the older girl laughed harder, covering her mouth loosely with one hand. “Who's side are you on, anyway?” She wouldn't pout, not in front of... whoever he was. Like her, he was watching Amelia, his expression difficult to read before it settled into something pleasant and blank. She rubbed her hand against her blazer, trying not to think about the chill of the man's skin.

He'd said her spell had woke him but...

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” Slightly breathless, Amelia took a moment to gather her composure. Wiping at her eyes, she smiled, finally calming down. “Just, your face when he did that was priceless.”

“Was it rude? If so, I apologize.” Both of them looked at the stranger, trying not to stare. His voice was hoarse, but it sounded nice enough now that he'd spoken a little more. He had bright blue eyes, the red, was it paint?, by the corners of his eyes making them stand out even more. Even with his stitches and the zippers in his skin, he wasn't bad looking.

Reece looked away, refusing to admit she'd been looking at the exposed half of his chest. “N-no. It wasn't rude just... really unexpected.” A snicker from her classmate made her send a glare at the taller girl, but Amelia just looked entertained by the whole thing.

Looking back at the stranger, she worked up her courage. “You said you came here to see Headmaster Randolph?” He nodded, the blue tie around his head dipping and swaying with the movement. She could see that his hair was braided in two separate places, but didn't seem to be tied off with anything. “What's your name?”

Surprising her once again, he bowed, a pale white hand pressed to his chest. “Azusa Kuze. And you are..?” His eyes flicked between her and Amelia, waiting for them to introduce themselves. “I'm Amelia, as you heard. Amelia Nile.” The older girl giggled, sticking out her hand for him to shake once he'd straightened up again. He looked at it for a moment, perhaps confused, before taking it and gently shaking. She could see Amelia jump a little when he touched her hand, returning her friend's shocked glance with a tiny shrug of her own.

His skin had felt cold, almost like ice when he'd kissed her hand. Considering his appearance, however conveniently close it was to Halloween....

She shivered, forcing a smile back onto her face. “I'm Reece. Reece Killian. Sorry for the rude wake up call down there.” Scratching her cheek, she looked away, eager to forget the whole embarrassing thing.

“A pleasure, I am sure.” He was smiling again, features carefully arranged and polite.

“So, I think we can get you in to the see the Headmaster, right Reece?” She blinked, staring at Amelia for a moment. Then it clicked, because the Headmaster would probably know what to do. And since he'd apparently come to the Academy to see him anyway...

“Y-yeah.. I think we could.” Looking up at Azusa, she found him staring at her, one corner of his mouth quirked. It made her stomach flip, and she pushed the feeling aside. “Uh.. you never said where you were from, Azusa.” Was it someplace far off?

It might be, because the style of clothes he was wearing didn't look like anything she'd ever seen, on a person or in a book.

“I am, or was, from Hinomoto.” At their blank looks, he seemed to be amused. “It is a small country, an island in the east. We are very isolated there, so I am not surprised you aren't familiar with it.”

“Was?” Amelia was looking at him with confusion, her head tipped to the side.

Azusa gestured to himself, at what may have been terrible wounds to be so... almost haphazardly stitched. “Being as I am now, I am not sure if one might count me as a... regular citizen.”

She looked away, thumb rubbing over the whorls of her wand to mask the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. Amelia must have looked away too, because she was also silent for a long moment. “I'm sorry. For...”

“It is nothing. You didn't know.” His voice sounded so gentle, she had to wonder if this didn't bother him at all.

Forcing her head up, she pocketed her wand and tried to smile. “Well, we can take you to the Headmaster at least. If you're up to it.” Amelia also raised her head, face brightening at the suggestion. Azusa only nodded, pale hands by his sides, though his eyes kept moving from place to place.

Maybe he was nervous?

She wouldn't blame him, if it were her.

“Come on, its this way to his office.” Turning, she started walking, hearing Amelia fall into step as well. A moment later, a third set of footsteps joined, strides spaced to match theirs without drawing too close. Feeling the need to say something, perhaps something positive, a though occurred to her. Reece turned her head, catching Azusa's eye. “Maybe you can stay for the Halloween party later. You might like it.”

For a second, his absolute confusion was almost... cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more boys to go! Are you ready?


	5. Klaus- Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween and she's alone, it's Halloween and someone's at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC for this chapter is Anima Perrill.

There was a knocking at her front door, distracting her from the warmth emanating from her cup. Blinking the steam out of her eyes, she glanced at the clock gently ticking away on the wall. Three hours past sundown, and not a cloud in sight for the evening. Unless something had happened with her father, there was only one person it could be. Setting the cup down on the table, Anima carefully stood and touched the pocket where her wand was hidden. Her feet made little noise as she left the den, entering the short hall that would lead her to the door.

Through the glass, she could see the shadow of someone standing there.

Keeping her breath steady, she walked over, testing the charms on the walls to see if the visitor was familiar or not. The deceptive decorations remained inert, one a tiny sculpture of brass, swallows bracing their wings against a strong wind. She touched another, this one resting on the long hall table where her father tended to scatter his things upon coming in. A statuette of a woman, nearly featureless with age and the frequent touches her and her father had given it over the years, her hands uplifted in greeting, or benediction.

A keepsake from her mother, her father had said, the spell within still strong.

The faint light it gave off at her touch was pale rose between the woman's upturned palms, indicating that she knew the one standing at the door.

Satisfied, she peered through the peephole, fingers bracing against the wood of the door.

Blond hair, sharp violet eyes. He was looking off to the side, either focused on something else or pretending he couldn't hear her through the thin barrier between them.

Suppressing a small laugh, she leaned back and undid the latches, physical and magical. Opening the door, she looked up at him, trying her best to keep her expression neutral.

Then she saw what he was wearing. And holding.

The suit looked good on him, but then, most did. The cape broadened his shoulders a little more, the underside a catching shade of red. Atop his head she could see a hat, wrapped with red and roses above the brim. He smiled at her surprise, fangs evident in the light coming from behind her, eyes amused as she felt herself flush. In his hand was at least two dozen red roses, carefully wrapped in white and tied at the stems.

He offered them to her, lifting his hat off his head with a wink.

“Happy Halloween, Anima.”

Snapping back to the present, she reached out to touch the blossoms, the softness of the petals confirming that they were real. She let herself smile, charmed already and he hadn't even set foot inside yet.

Taking the bundle from him with care, she turned her own purple eyes up to his face, tipping her head with a knowing smile. “I was not aware one gave roses on Halloween. Red ones, no less.” She glanced at his fangs, then away, doing her best not to swallow.

“I recall you saying that I shouldn't come back unless I brought flowers.” His voice pitched low, sending warmth through her middle. “So I brought enough to make up for last time.”

She repressed a smile, pretending to study the mass of flowers in her arms. In truth, she'd only teasing him as he'd been teasing her but... The flowers were certainly nice. Peering up at him, she smiled back – the expression more natural than it used to be.

“Come inside, Klaus. You have my invitation.”

Stepping back and turning, she left him to go find a vase that could hold all the roses. Or, at least, enough to evenly split the lot where possible. She heard him step in, slowly, almost cautious, and what might be him removing the hat and cape.

Laying the flowers down on the kitchen's counter, she opened one of the lower cabinets, fumbling. Cool glass met her touch and she pulled it out, eyeing the container. After a moment, she nodded, turning to fill it with water.

He was right there and she jumped, sucking in a loud breath in surprise.

A twitch at the corner of his lips let her know that he'd seen her startle and was teasing her about it. “No costume? Did you decide not to celebrate?”

“I didn't know to expect company.” She never really dressed up, regardless if she was alone or not. It had never seemed... necessary. “But you have no room to talk.” Reaching out, cradling the vase in her other arm, she tugged gently on his cravat. “You wear suits on a daily basis, _Professor_ ,” adding a light stress to the word she tugged again on the pale cloth, pleased when he leaned closer, “so another one hardly counts, yes?”

“And here I was trying to be romantic.” his lips brushed over hers, chill but soft. She felt him tug the vase out of her grasp, heard it be set somewhere to the left. To tease him, she allowed herself a chuckle; fingers releasing his cravat in favor of stroking his cheek. “Romantic? I suppose it was.” His expression faltered for a moment, a tiny flicker of doubt she was mildly surprised at.

She had to lean up, balancing on the soles of her feet, but kissed him as best she could.

His hands steadied her, pulling her against him. He kissed her back, nipping once at her lip.

The point of a fang caught at her skin, grazing more than actually hurting. She pulled back even so, touching the spot with the tip of her tongue to soothe it. His eyes followed the motion, violet a shade darker than she remembered it being moments ago. He was still holding her, waiting for something.

Her to decide, perhaps.

“The roses.” Even if they weren't among the foremost things in her mind, it was as good an excuse as any. She saw his disappointment before he caught it, decided to press a soft peck to the patch of skin his collar didn't quite manage to hide. He stiffened at the touch, fingers marginally tightening against her sides.

When she pulled back, he let her, narrowing his eyes at her innocent expression.

 

She was teasing him, he knew. They were moving around each other as they had learned to, pushing at small boundaries where each knew it was comfortable to do so. It took a considerable portion of his self-control to take a step back form her, but he did. Watching her turn, dark purple hair sliding against her shoulders as she moved, he reigned himself in.

There was no one else in the house, of that he was certain. The only scent he could pick out was hers, even that only a day or so old – so she'd arrived alone. When her father might come, if he even decided to, was uncertain, exactly as she'd told him back at the Academy. He wondered about that, knowing only that the man had some position of importance, that he and his daughter were distant with one another, and that he had not been present at her graduation.

That still rankled beneath his skin.

Anima had only assured him not to worry about it, her voice steady and unmoved by the event.

He'd caught her watching faces as graduates and their families left after the ceremony, expression left hesitant, unguarded. Her shoulders had slumped just faintly, mouth turned down at the corners. When she'd turned back to greet him and Elias, nothing of the sadness had remained.

Shaking his head to dismiss it, the sound of scissors caught his attention.

There was already a small pile of blossoms at her side, neatly trimmed and ready for the vase. He lifted the glass easily, his fingers lacking any heat to fog the surface and set it under the faucet to fill. The sound was a pleasant one, and his ears picked up on her quiet 'thank you'. Once there was enough water, he shut the flow off, lifting the vase from the sink. The roses jostled one another as he placed them in, wanting to roll around in every direction.

Anima liked roses, she'd admitted to him once, when he'd asked what flowers she might like in her bridal veil. She'd made a face at the mention of the wedding they'd yet to set a date for, but given him that tidbit of information. White-purple calla lilies were her second favorite, she'd said afterward, her face tucked against his chest; that a bouquet of them wouldn't be a terrible thing at all to have at a wedding.

His heart still picked up a bit at that, that without directly saying yes she thought about what their wedding would be. Could be.

“You're distracted.” Her voice startled him and he found himself blinking at a full vase, roses pressed together to fit them all. The result was a hypnotizing pattern of whorls and hollows where the petals turned towards the center of the blossom, nearly impossible to look at without one's eyes wandering towards the rest.

“I'm thinking of you.” Glancing at her, he managed to see her tiny blush before she hid it.

Without missing a beat, she asked, “Are you saying I distract you?”

Her eyes were bright, he noticed. It made something relax within his chest. “You do.” He quirked his lips at her look, reaching out to brush her hair back. It could be easy to forget how long it really was, sometimes, when she usually kept it up. “I wouldn't cross hundreds of miles just for anyone, you know.”

She laughed, open and free for a beautiful moment, and he wanted to bottle that happiness.

“Yes you would, Klaus. For Elias or any one of your family.” The glance sent his way was pure amusement, her hand coming up to cradle his own. Her skin was very warm against his, fingers squeezing his once. “But thank you. Tonight is better now that you're here.”

Tugging his hand, she led him back to the den and he followed, eyeing the sparse tasteful decor. He wasn't sure if it was her touch or her father's, how similar their tastes went. Engrossed in thought, he missed her turning to look at him in the warmer light, but the push she gave his chest drew his attention. Obligingly, he sat on the couch, surprised at the comfort he immediately felt. It deepened when she carefully sat on his lap. His arms moved of their own accord, wrapping around her and pulling her close. She arranged her arms so that she could hold him as well, slender arms pleasant with their warmth. She sighed once they stopped moving, tucking her head beneath his chin.

Klaus chuckled, unable to help it. This was.. nice. Being alone with her, outside the walls of the Academy and prying eyes.

“Something funny?” She asked, voice slightly muffled by his chest.

“You aren't cold?” He was curious, because other than when he'd held her in his office this was the closest they'd been. Anima shook her head, lifting herself up so she could meet his eye. Something was off at the edge of her expression, masking something.

“What is it, Anima?”

“Do you remember what you promised about...” Her fingers traced his lips, pausing where she felt the rise of his fang. He nodded, pressing his lips to the pad of her finger. Her throat worked, swallowing, and he watched the motion, felt the ache echo through him.

“My answer is yes.”

Klaus froze, staring at her. Her warmth kept him rooted in place, easing into his skin. She was serious, he could see it, gaze steadily meeting his shocked one. Raising his hand to hers, taking it from his mouth, he kissed her fingers, her palm.

He felt her shiver.

“Anima.. Are you saying..?” She leaned up, cutting him off by kissing him. He hummed, leaning into it and cupping her head in his free hand. Her hair was soft, warm near her scalp and cooler if he trailer his fingers further down the length of it. 

She pulled back, enough that she could study his face once they were parted. There was a light in his eyes, she noticed, brighter than it had been. Seeing it made her face soften, made giving in to the urge to kiss him again easier. His lips were warmer, having been in contact with her skin, and she wondered how warm he might be after... well.

“I'd thought to wait until my father approved.” He rose a brow at that, nodding. She continued, reaching up to toy with the ends of his hair. “When he did, I was surprised. That just left me with the choice of deciding how to tell you. It occurred to me that you've been there even when I was difficult.” His cheek twitched when her fingers trailed over his skin, when her thumb pressed against his chin he opened his mouth just a little.

His teeth were white, tips of his fangs peeking out from beneath his lip.

She looked at them, transfixed for a moment.

His tongue moved, brushing against the tip of her thumb. The sensation made her flush more than the turn of conversation did, but she smiled when she looked at him.

“I want to be the same kind of support for you. So.. you have my invitation.”

His lips curled up into a smile, patient expression turning devilish. She was sure he could her hear her pulse skip. His arms pulled her closer, she wouldn't admit to squeaking even under threat of his Special Training. The kiss was deeper when their lips met and she leaned into it, fingers curling in his shirt. Klaus kissed her like that one more time, holding her tight enough to make her squirm.

“I love you.”

Whispered against her mouth, her cheek, then against her neck when he nestled his face there. She fought back a giggle, finding it harder than expected. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew..  
> Only one more to go, or will there be more? I hope to see you all again soon!


	6. Yukiya- Werewolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl in the cloak walks to town and meets a wolf, the wolf walks away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My final MC for the boys (until Joel is released) is Delia Ritter. She has a condition called tritanopia, or yellow-blue colorblindness. To summarize, she cannot perceive yellow or green at all- the first looks white or a very pale pink/violet, blues look like shades of green. That's why I've altered some color descriptors for her POV segments, as I've tried to capture what she sees. For those that want to know more, a link will be added at the end of the chapter.

Leaves and twigs rustled and snapped beneath her feet, cloak catching on the creeping branches of shrubs. The path was faint, but she followed it, glancing around occasionally to see if anything had slipped by. It wouldn't be the first time she'd missed the trail, but she wanted to reach her destination before it got to be late. Soon the path should lead to the road and from there she really couldn't lose her way. From that point it would be a straight shot to the next town, so she was looking forward to the easier leg of the journey.

While she walked, her mind roamed over small thoughts. How autumn seemed to be coming quicker than usual this year, that the animals around the town where getting nervous. Sometimes an early autumn meant wolves, and if the wolves came then there could be problems with the minor roads.

She'd never seen a season like the ones older generations spoke of, where the canine interlopers came almost into the town itself to start something – looking for food or whatever else. Some of the villagers her age said it was nothing but pipe dreams and boredom which lead them to talk.

Lifting her head, seeing more foliage stretch out before her, she tried to spy the break in the trees that would let her know she was getting close. Slipping a hand into her pocket, gently touching the small bag of Lune there and drawing back out, she tightened her grip on the basket in her other hand. It only contained small bottles, things to trade with mostly, and she hoped that she'd be able to find some of the things she needed.

Pleased when her suspicion proved true, the young woman picked up her step when she saw the treeline break; hard packed dirt of the road winding out in either direction. Something also stepped out from the trees, several steps behind her, and when she turned to find the source of the sound she jumped. Gray eyes widened at the sight of a wolf stepping out from between the trees, giving its thick black pelt a shake. Pale pink eyes, nearly white, regarded her for a moment, ears raised high to catch any sound.

Immediately she lowered her eyes, instead watching the ground in front of its paws. Had it followed her for long? How had she not heard it? The brunette caught herself on that thought, reminding herself that she hadn't been very quiet at all. And wolves could be quieter than humans in that regard, even one so large.

It didn't move at first, tail at ease and ears tall in its sleek head. Then, it continued on, crossing the road to enter the other part of the woods. Watching from beneath her lashes, waiting to see if it re-emerged. When it didn't for several minutes, she started walking again.

Her mother had always said to never run from a wolf, not unless you were certain safe shelter could be found – be it a building or a climbable tree.

Relief was bliss when the town came into view, tension bleeding out of her shoulders. Nodding to people she recognized on sight, she headed straight for the shop she wanted, smiling at the sound of the bell chiming above her head.

Thalia raised her head, beaming now that she'd seen one of her favorites step in. “Getting a little worried you wouldn't show up, Delia. Did you wind up reconsidering?”  
Shaking her head, pulling down her hood now that she was inside, the wizardess moved to place her basket on the counter. “No, just got a late start. Wanted to make sure that the hives were secure.” Reaching inside she set out three sealed jars, one whose interior boasted a waxy comb. Thalia scrutinized each one with a smile, nodding once she was done.

“Alright. What all do you need and can you carry it? I can call my boys if you need them.”

Giving the woman a list, thankfully short, she shook her head. “I can get it this time. It's not like spring when I'd definitely need their help. But thank you, for offering.” Thalia hummed in acquiescence as she moved around, handing things to the younger woman to put in her basket. She did, promising to have more options to trade next time. Glancing out the sky as she left, glad to see that she still had time to make it home before bad weather set in. Weather magic wasn't her strongest field, but any time her magic said it would rain, it wasn't wrong. Others seemed to be noticing the change as well, ushering children inside with eyes looking toward the horizon.

Delia took a moment to secure her cloak and cover her basket, setting out for home.

The light coming through darkening clouds grew thinner, making her opt to stick to the road for longer than she usually would. Trees spanned either side, branches forming a latticework perfect for shadows. Firefly owls might decide to peer out from their hollows early, due to the incoming gloom. As curious as she was about it, she instead kept walking.

A loud bark and a whine nearly made her jump out of her skin, head whipping about as she looked around. There was no one but her out in the open, the sound having come from within the trees. She hesitated, glancing up the pale stretch of road before carefully entering the line of trees. The darkness wasn't immediate, but the density of the leaves made it difficult further in. She slid a hand into her pocket, wand steady once she'd drawn it out, a light spell gradually coming to life. The pale white light hovered an inch above the tip of her wand, casting shadows that seemed deeper than the ones made by the trees.

Something crashed through the underbrush, running away from her position. Turning her wand towards the noise, she thought there'd been a flash of gray, something large but close to the ground. Straining her ears, standing still for fear of missing it, she listened for the whine from earlier.

She knew healing magic, even if it worked better on animals than people.

If it was a wolf that had attacked another animal, or a person, she might be able to help.

It came, the whine, lower than she'd hoped for, but she turned her body towards the sound and made her way over as quietly as possible. The basket felt heavier on her arm and she wondered if she should have left it on the road. If it rained, the cloth she'd spread over it wouldn't do much good, but if she needed to carry someone then it would just be a hindrance. 

Her spell illuminated something dark and pink to her vision and she stopped, unable to do much more than stare for several long moments. A tall figure lay in the grass, pale skin split open at the shoulder and dark pink blood running down their back, staining their shirt. Judging by the broadness of the shoulders alone, the person was likely a man, but they laid still as if unconscious.

Once she was close enough she knelt, setting the basket down. Flicking her wand, the orb of light began to hover overhead, now fixed in place so she could use her hands. Keeping her wand within easy reach she gently touched one pale shoulder, wincing in sympathy at what she could see of the wound.

The figure jerked, hissing in pain as they did so, haphazardly attempting to rise. Feeling her eyes widen, she tried to keep her voice level. “Hey, don't try and move with this okay? I can help you, just please stay still so I can get a better look..”

The person's head turned and now she could see that their hair wasn't black, instead a dark brackish blue. They kept one eye closed, the other open and the iris a grayish pink. He looked confused, opening his mouth as if to speak but cutting off with a groan. He stayed still, for that she was thankful, and gave her attention to his injury.

It was as if he'd been bitten and the creature responsible had tried to tear him apart.

She didn't have anything to sterilize the wound with, but she could conjure something to help until she got him someplace safe. Lifting her wand, she saw him flinch, thought his wound was aggravating him. Carefully pitching her voice, she spoke as kindly as she could. “It's alright. I'm just gonna conjure some bandages for your shoulder. I don't have anything to clean it with on me, but I can get you to my place and patch you up.”

He shivered, mouth working like he was speaking. Or trying to.

“I'm sorry?” She leaned in, face drawn in concentration and concern.

“Don't.” He swallowed, raising his gaze to meet hers. “I'll be fine.”

“No, I'm sorry but I can't... leave you like this.” Her eyes went to his shoulder, cloth and skin stained that dark color. The possibility of infection was high, and she didn't want him passing out from blood loss. “If you're worried about me using magic I can try using my cloak instead. Would that make you more comfortable?”

He stared at her, the lid over his shut eye lifting a little.

“You don't need to get involved.” His stunned expression shuttered, voice losing what little inflection it had before then. Delia felt herself frown, opening her mouth to respond when he motioned for her to be quiet.

Her mouth closed, ears straining to listen.

Something moved, but she wasn't sure how close it was.

“We need to go.” He turned his head to look at her, single eye completely serious. “Can you walk?” In spite of the situation, she let herself give him a sharp look. “I should be asking you that.” She got up as he did, hands ready to steady him when he swayed. He picked up her basket in his other hand, keeping his injured shoulder as still as possible.

“You don't-”

“This way. Dismiss your light.” He was staring off into the trees, focused in one direction specifically. Uneasy, she lifted her wand and did as he said, blinking in the darkness left behind once the light was gone. Skin brushed against her free hand and she jumped, throat tightening with the want to scream. Warm fingers closed around her wrist and then he was walking, fast, and she had to lengthen her stride to keep up.

“Where-”

“Do you know any attack spells?” He cut her off, his voice slipping back to her through the rustle of leaves and brush. She had to hop over a fallen branch, thinking quickly. “Yes. Just a few though..”

“If you think you're in trouble, use them.” He spared a glance at her, or she thought he did. The grip on her wrist tightened as he pulled her closer to him, then pushing her ahead. The wicker of her basket was pushed into her other hand and she spun around to look at him.

He'd stopped moving, facing the dark woods.

“What are you doing?” She wasn't even sure what they were trying to get away from, and he wanted to face it alone?

“Go home.” His voice had taken on a commanding tone, strain creeping through the demand.

Eyes peered at them from the dark, high enough off the ground to be level with the injured man's chest. The man slowly raised a hand, pressing it to his face as though he was in pain. She watched him, unwilling to leave, several spells running through her mind. He didn't have a weapon so what did he intend to do against whatever the creature was?

The eyes moved, and so did the stranger.

There was the sound of something tearing, a shout of pain from the blue-haired man, and she was sure there was blood on the ground because where the man had been there was now a giant black wolf. It favored one paw, but let out a menacing growl at the approaching creature. She saw a flash of teeth and fur, snarls filling the air.

 

He woke to sunlight, dizzying and bright. It left him blinking for a few moments, his brain attempting to process what might have happened in the missing time. In his shoulder was a dull throb, the muscles tight, but his wound was no longer exposed to the open air. Glancing at it, he saw thick white gauze wrapped over the area, secured with expert care. When he tried to turn over and lay on his back other aches announced themselves in his lower back and legs, his neck.

With a wince, he managed to successfully shift positions and took a moment to just enjoy it. Blood flow returned to the previously trapped side of his body, prickling him with pins and needles. Staring up at the ceiling, he noted the pale curtain covering the window just above his head, keeping the sun from completely blinding him.

Turning his head, he could see that he'd occupied the only bed, the only other furniture being a nightstand with a basin and pitcher, white porcelain trimmed with baby blue, and a wardrobe. The only door was open just a hair, letting him catch a glimpse of a hallway but not much else.

His nose twitched. Something smelled good.

He lay still for a little longer, watching the shadows move on the wall.

Had that girl dragged him here, even after what she'd seen? Wasn't she afraid of him?

Pushing the thoughts aside, he slowly tried to lift himself up off the bed. It hurt, but he managed it. His feet tingled when they touched the thin rug separating him from the wooden floor, but he worked himself up to standing rather than pondering it. It took a few false starts, each time he landed on the bed with an 'oomph', once jarring his shoulder. Finally on his feet, he shuffled his way to the door.

The walls needed a fresh coat of paint, he noticed upon getting closer. Sparing a glance around the room, intended sick room?, he noticed little scrapes now. Places where the coat was uneven or faded due to light. Gently pulling the door open, he could see that the hall branched off to a washroom to his immediate right; left lead towards another door and stairs going down. A quick look around revealed no one in sight, and he didn't feel comfortable trying the only other door. The stairs creaked once beneath his weight and he froze, listening for anyone that might have heard.

A voice came up from somewhere below, soft and feminine, “Hello?”

Resolving himself, he continued his descent, following his nose to where the pleasant scent was coming from. He glimpsed a den, a closet, finally met with the large kitchen. She was standing there, looking like she'd been about to come and check on him. Surprise made her expression go slack, her eyes moving over him like she expected him to be in worse condition. Her gaze lingered on his face, maybe his hair too, as if she were trying to puzzle something out.

Some of her hair had come loose from her ponytail and stuck to the side of her neck, and there was a bandage on her forearm. He felt his face tighten at the sight, unable to stop the reaction. She'd been hurt, and it was his fault.

“I'm sorry, I thought you might be asleep for a little longer.” She smiled, lighting up from the inside and he shuffled his feet. At a glance, he could discern what smelled so nice. A pot was on the stove, the pleasant aroma wafting from it. To the left of it was a pan of bread, still cooling, he noticed.

“How long was I asleep?” It had been late afternoon when they'd met in the woods. Now he would say the time was close to mid-morning. She let out a tiny laugh at that, gray eyes glancing back towards the stove. He noticed that her hand went to her bandaged arm.

“Ever since you drove that creature off. So I guess... roughly half a day?” Lifting her gaze, she offered him an apologetic smile. “You passed out.. I was afraid I'd hit you with my lightning spell. Sorry, if I did.” She looked away again, sheepish. “I.. I remembered that you didn't want me using magic on your wound, so I cleaned it the normal way. Does it hurt?”

Her eyes on him again, he shook his head. When his gaze lingered on her hurt arm, she tucked it behind her back.

With a heavy feeling, he asked, “Did I do that to you?”

“No! No, it wasn't you.” Her eyes wide, good hand waving dismissively. “I just hurt it after I tried to carry you in.” Something in the pot bubbled, drawing her attention away. As she stirred the contents, he glanced at the door. He could leave, and she wouldn't need to worry.

He'd smelled the lie anyway.

“Are you hungry? There's plenty if you are.” Turning his head back to her, he saw the reassuring smile she sent over her shoulder. “I could have another look at your shoulder if you wouldn't mind. It might take longer to heal this way but - “

“Why are you doing this?” His blunt tone cut through her sentence, making her freeze. The hand that had been reaching for bowls from a cabinet twitched, fingers curling in for a second before she lowered it to her side. “You don't owe me anything.”

She stood still, her back to him for a beat longer before smoothing out her shirt. Her shoulders dropped, then lifted again as she inhaled and turned to face him. The look in her eyes wasn't what he expected – just acceptance.

“You're right. I don't. And before you ask, I'm aware of what I saw the other day.” She didn't touch her wrapped arm, kept it loose and still at her side. “But I also saw how much it hurt you to do that.. for someone you didn't even know. You helped me, and I want to return the favor. If you'll give me the chance.” Her eyes settled on his injured shoulder for a moment, before returning to his eyes.

Belatedly, he closed the paler one, grimacing at himself.

“I already hurt you. It will just get worse if I stay.” Especially on the full moon, a mere two nights away. Risking that, just to pay him back for getting her involved? The thought made his stomach turn.

“I'm fine. A healing spell will take care of this in a jiffy.” She gestured to her arm, not breaking eye contact with him. “But you're alone, right? I don't know where you might have been headed to, but you can't go like that. And...” she paused, dropping her gaze to the floor. “If it's the full moon you're worried about then we'll cross that bridge when it comes.”

He felt his nose wrinkle, eye narrowing. “No.”

 

Delia frowned at the flat rejection, truthfully unsurprised that that was his answer. Even she could admit that she didn't have much clue as to what she was doing, offering, to a complete stranger no less. But..

The image of his pale face, drawn in pain, flickered in her mind's eye. He'd lashed out in self-defense she'd thought, startled by her magic – and really, she should have been more careful. It could have been much worse, but it wasn't. He'd passed out, and once she'd come back to herself she'd gotten him here.

So. Lifting her head with a sense of determination, she turned back to the cabinet and reached in, drawing out the bowls and setting them down. She spooned out a serving of the stew for each of them, fished out two spoons and set the dishes on the table. Turning back to the counter, she took a plate and sliced some of the bread, grabbing the butter from atop the spice rack. Adding it to the table, she shot him a glance, relieved and slightly amused to find him watching her with a perplexed look on his face.

His other eye was open again, letting her glimpse the pale iris. She wasn't sure if it was white or pink, and asking something like that felt rude. Especially since she also wondered if the eye was that way because of his... well, perhaps one might call it a curse.

“You look hungry. If you'll humor me that much and let me take another look at your shoulder I'll let you be.” He raised a brow at that, and she couldn't blame him for doubting her. But he did glance at the food she'd set out, and slowly he moved to a chair and sat. She turned to lower the temperature on the stove, gently setting a lid on the pot to keep it warm before taking a seat herself.

He ate slowly, blowing on the stew before putting the spoon in his mouth. She busied herself with her own meal, wincing a little when she stretched out her bad arm too far. It was quiet, but also nice, having company like this. It was easy to wonder where her guest had come from, if he had any family, but she pushed the thought aside. He'd stayed to eat, maybe let her check his injury. What happened after that was out of her hands, for all she might wish to help.

Glancing up at him, she was pleased to see a little color in his face now. He seemed a little more at ease, body language less restrained and closed off. She smeared a bit of the stew on her bread, letting it soak in before taking a bite.

“Why didn't you heal yourself?” The soft question caught her off guard, halting the descent of bread and broth in her throat. He was looking at her, face smooth and free of emotion. It was... a little unnerving, how he could do that. Delia sat up a little straighter, dipping her spoon back into her bowl.

“Offensive magic drains my magic more than healing does. It's probably a lack of focus on my part, but..” she shrugged, feeling sheepish. “The lightning spell tapped me out more or less. I'm sorry, for startling you with it.” Was it her imagination or did he wince?

“It's fine.”

“May I ask you something?” He met her eye evenly, but his mouth turned down a little, like he was bracing himself to refuse. She paused at that, re-thinking her question. “Would you tell me your name? I'd like to have something to address you by, it that's alright.”

She waited as he turned it over in his mind, running her finger along the ingrained patterns in the table's surface. It surprised her when he actually spoke, tone carefully blank. “Yukiya Reizen.”

Reizen... not one she recognized. But she smiled nonetheless. “I'm Delia. Delia Ritter.”

The rest of the meal passed in silence, only broken she asked him what he'd like to drink. He'd only asked for some water, downing most of it in one go, glancing at her once he'd finished and she'd offered to refill it. A bit of pink had showed on his cheeks then, and she'd hidden her smile while refilling his glass.

Once they were done and he'd insisted on helping her clean up, she took a look at his shoulder. He'd shifted, eyes darting away, but agreed to sit. She helped him get the borrowed shirt over his head, one of her father's, just broad enough in the shoulder to fit him, and carefully unwound the gauze to check the wound. She'd cleaned it the previous day, checked on it several times throughout the night before going to sleep, so she was pleased to discover that there didn't appear to be any trace of infection.

He'd stayed still, almost like a statue, as she worked. Answered her questions in taciturn sentences, holding the fresh gauze for her when she asked him to. Certainly one of the most well-behaved of her patients, though she felt herself flush at the sight of his bare chest.

“I can make you something you can carry, if you're sure about leaving.” Tying off the gauze, she thought she saw his shoulder tense, either at the sound of her voice or the reminder of his decision. He only stared ahead, so far as she could tell.

“You don't have to.”

“Call me soft-hearted.” She smiled as she tossed away the soiled bandages, cleaning her hands. “I don't like the thought of sending you out with nothing.” When she came around again, he was watching her, frowning. Delia helped him back into the shirt, tilting her head when he plucked at a sleeve.

“Is it too tight? I can find another one if you want...”

Yukiya shook his head, lifting his gaze. “It's fine. Just... really green.”

Green? She paused, looking at the fabric. It looked... blue. A lighter, kind of gray type of blue.

For a lack of better words, she only uttered a soft “oh.” Then, hesitantly, “W-would you like a different one?”

“Are you alright?” Ignoring her question, his eyes searched her face, brows drawn.

“Yeah. I'm fine.” Smiling, she made herself walk over to the counter and start on a travel pack for him. A sealed container for the stew, wrapped bread, she tossed in two apples as well, in case he wanted variety. It made her hands steady, to have something to do, so in went spare gauze and disinfectant. “My offer to help still stands, so... if.. if you decide to change your mind..”

What was she trying to do, saying this?

He'd stood by the time she turned around, spare traveling bag in hand. She met his gaze with a wavering smile, holding the bag out to him. He took it, slow and careful, eyes running over her face. She found herself glancing at his hair, still brackish blue to her eyes, and wondered if that was wrong too.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Be careful, Yukiya.”

He nodded, looking her up and down one last time before slowly heading for the door. It opened, closed, and she slowly let out a deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all the boys. Bonus chapter will be up soon, so there's that to look forward to.  
>  For people curious about tritanopia, here's a link:
> 
> http://www.color-blindness.com/tritanopia-blue-yellow-color-blindness/
> 
> Thanks for staying with me through this!


	7. Amelia Nile- Fairy Godsister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's got a list and many things to do, but this one just keeps cropping up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How could I not include Amelia? She's our wonderful support throughout all the routes, bless her sunny little heart. I hope everyone enjoys this. Thank you all for reading!

Stretching her arms above her head, Amelia let out a satisfied sigh as her back popped, wings beating gently in the comfortable afternoon air. Sunlight occasionally caught on them, highlighting the delicate design of veins. Her shoes lightly scuffed the cobblestones of the corridor, filling the otherwise still atmosphere. The doors of her boss' office loomed before her, ancient oak gilded with gold. Lifting her hand to knock, she waited for a response before pulling the handle and sliding in. Dust motes swirled in the air, tiny flecks of silver in the light.

Everything looked as it usually did, bookshelves neat and tools of various kinds either inert or gently moving to some purpose she wasn't aware of. Her boss looked up from a shelf of papers, expression becoming a smooth, professional expectation.

“Amelia. Back already?”

“Yeah! Another job well done!” Reaching into her bag, the orange haired young woman removed a thin journal with small stickers in the shape of pumpkins. Adjusting the straps of her bag on her shoulder, she opened it, briefly allowing a glimpse of a fox inked onto the upper left corner of the stationery. Finding what she wanted, she presented the journal to the seated figure, eyes brimming with excitement.

Pale hands took the book gently, tilting it so that the ink was better visible to read.

“I admit, I'm sad Luca got away from me. But it seems like that may have taken care of itself.. see there?” Stepping up to the desk, maneuvering around the papers, she tapped one section of the journal with a fingertip. “Arum Pendergast and he are tied now. Of course there might not be a guarantee on what'll happen, since Grim Reapers are out of my jurisdiction, but he seemed interested. And so did she.”

The fairy's expression went from excited to contemplative to one of relieved contentment. A soft smile tugged at her lips at the mention of the green haired reaper, which her superior noted. They skimmed the notes for a beat longer, idly turning a page to see what was written on the other side.

“Excellent. And it went well with your friend and our reanimated visitor?”

A chuckle had the younger one drawing back, no longer bracing her weight on one arm. Tucking her hair behind her ear, twinkling brown eyes stared off into the distance. “It took a bit of doing, but I arranged things as you asked. The spell should keep him going for quite a while,” tapping her chin with one slender finger, “and they should be able to accomplish their own goals. It'll be tough, but I think they'll be good for one another.”

“And Elias?” Feeling her superior's eyes on her, Amelia turned to face them obligingly. For a moment, her eyes were downcast, brows knitting into a worried line.

“He's doing better, I think. He seemed happy, or close to it, when I passed through.” Folding her arms lightly, she balanced her weight on one leg. “I believe that either Klaus, who is a resounding success I'd like to add,” she winked, unable to help it, “is on his way to collect him. It'll be another week or so, given his condition, you know.”

The person at the desk nodded, lacing their long fingers together and resting their chin on them. “Will he want to stay, I wonder? It must be nice, to escape once in a while.”

“Yeah..” Amelia's face softened, a tiny sigh escaping her lips.

A tap on a finger on paper caught her attention, drawing her eyes up again. “It says here that Anima agreed to the proposal.” A look of pleased approval crossed the attractive face, curving their eyes as they read over the note. “When do you think the invitations will go out?”

“Soon as he gets Elias and tells him the news, I expect.” Smiling broadly, Amelia flapped her wings to keep them from cramping, enjoying the feeling of having them free after confining them for so long. “As for Elias himself, it might take a while. Poor guy's got a lot to work through.”

“Indeed.” The fairy leaned forward to accept the journal back, holding it to her chest as she waited for the elder to continue. They had a pensive air about them, making her curious. “Currently, Eleanor Thomas is getting used to her new familiar. Your doing as well, I take it?” Brows lifted, eyes boring into her own. While there was still amiability in them, there was a note of warning as well.

“Well... yes, admittedly.” She fumbled, tracing the binding of her journal with a hesitant thumb. “It didn't go quite as I'd planned, but she wasn't hurt!” The last bit of her sentence was high, eager to reassure.

She'd made sure. Stuck around just in case.

“A little more caution next time. Ones like that are.. difficult to coax back from abroad.”

Bobbing her head in understanding, she slid her journal back into her bag. “I understand.” Lifting her gaze to the seated figure, she let a tiny smile appear. “Was there anything else for you best employee of the year?” Chuckling, she winked at her superior. “I mean, its close to the time for my vacation. And I'm a student, on top of all this.” Lifting her hands, she gestured at nothing in particular, wings idly flapping.

Her boss smiled, leaning back in their seat and steepling their fingers. Amelia felt her smile gradually weaken as the silence stretched on, her employer's smile not budging an inch. Lowering her arms, the fairy tried not to hunch her shoulders, wings now flat against her back in agitation.

“I didn't mean any disrespect.. If I did something wrong I'll do my best to fix it.” Her voice came out tiny, hardly any of her sunny personality coloring the words. The soft laugh she got in response made her eyes go wide, mouth falling open.

Once their laughter subsided into amused chuckles, her boss spoke. “No, it's nothing you did wrong. Just a reoccurring challenge is all.” Picking up a single document, they held it out to the young woman.

Wings twitching with nervous energy, she took it and started scanning the elegant writing for clues. It became apparent, very quickly, what the 'reoccurring challenge' was.

“You're serious?! Him, again?” She couldn't restrain herself, now grasping the paper with both hands. Amongst the words was a single name, one 'Yukiya Reizen'. Her mind began to whirl, her attention turning inward as she tried to think of what could have happened.

“I.. I don't understand. They were fine. Things were going so well...” She let the words trail off, expression falling, a confused frown tugging her lips down. Brown eyes sought those of her superior's, document loose in her grasp now. “He just walked away..? This is the fifth time!”

“A curse is not an easy thing to overcome, Amelia. Even more so when it has caused harm to others.” Her superior's expression shuttered, eyes closing for a moment as if in thought. When they opened, a serene look had entered them again. “After all, it was not so easy for the others, now was it?”

Subdued, the girl nodded. Glancing at the document again, she read it with more attention this time, wings beating in time with her thoughts. The office was quiet for several moments, aside of the occasional rustle of fabric as one or both of them shifted.

“Perhaps it requires a more.. hands-on approach?” The figure in the chair prompted, tone gentle. They watched as the fairy considered it, suddenly unsure.

“I-I can try. I thought the whole point was to remain unseen, like you told me.” Her expression bemused, she offered the paper back to them, watching as they took it back and added it to one of the piles.

“That is the goal, usually.” They didn't deny it. “But not everyone is the same. Some close their hearts to kindness, fearing what could happen if they allow it in. However,” their eyes lifted, meeting their student's, “although there can be no cure for the curse of the full moon, it can be.. contained.”

“Ooh. Like a - “ She cut herself off, face brightening like the sun. A shimmer of magic from her delicate wings betrayed her excitement, what could almost be confused for dust particles lingering in the air. The young woman smiled, gentle and bright, arms now loose at her sides. “I see. I'll do my best!”

With a nod from her employer, she took off.

 

He'd been walking for the better part of a day when he'd stopped, eyeing the signpost which gave general directions to the next town and, further out, one of the few settlements large enough to be called a city. The bag hanging across his shoulders was light now, and he would need to find someplace safe to hide when the full moon came. Food he could find, and water, if he followed his nose. Being in a place full of people would be a bad idea, especially if the gray wolf was still following him.

A vague notion pushed at the back of his mind. People with magic weren't 'common' per say, not in these rural areas, he'd noticed. Apparently an epidemic had given the area trouble some years ago, and those who had magic could have gotten sick, been driven off out of fear, or been lost for any other number of reasons.

If he went back, and asked, perhaps there was a chance there was a kind of magic that could help. A sleep spell powerful enough to render him dumb to his curse's pull? A potion, maybe?

He turned the thought over carefully, as he often had. It had been one of the first possible solutions he'd thought of, after the chaos of the attack and the fear which had made him run from home.

He almost thought he could feel slight grooves in the idea, from how often he'd pushed it around in his mind. As if he'd run his hands over a worry stone or piece of wood frequently enough to leave marks of his touch, intangible as it would be, in this case.

But every person he'd felt brave enough to ask, every wizard, wizardess, witch and warlock had said the same thing: there was no cure. No way to drown out what would happen on the full moon, short of chaining himself in a cage and even then- even then he might get free as he grew older, stronger.

A dart of needles sped down his spine as he remembered the leer one person had given him, offering a spell to make him forget. That it could be as if it'd never happened, regardless if he woke up with blood under his nails or in his mouth. Like eating the petals of a lotus my boy, he recalled, you might remember the taste, but it won't matter to you. Yukiya grit his teeth, pushing the memory aside, shoulders drawing in.

It surprised him, then, to notice that a young woman was standing beside him. He blinked, turning his head a bit to look at her. She came up to his shoulder, hair a layered mess of orange-red, pulled back at the back of her head with a yellow tie. He thought he saw a butterfly attachment to it, but wasn't at the right angle to see. Her eyes were a warm brown, face open and kind looking. She was watching him, he saw, her mouth curving up at one corner.

“..Can I help you?” His voice was rough and he restrained a wince. But since he never really spoke to anyone, the longest being the wizardess who'd helped him, it wasn't much of a surprise. 

“Well, actually, I'm here to help you.” The other corner of her mouth rose up to meet its twin, a twinkle entering her eyes.

Yukiya narrowed his, glancing up and down the road. He hadn't heard her approach, and he couldn't place her scent. It was... not familiar per say, but different. Something like a spice, but he couldn't recall the name.

“What?”

She met his gaze evenly, arms loose at her sides. She wasn't afraid of him in the least, he noticed. An odd pang went through his chest. If she noticed his expression shift, she gave no sign. “I'm. Here. For. You.” Enunciating each word, she said the last bit with a giggle, as if it were obvious. “You've been looking for someone who can help you with some stuff, right?”

Unease prickled the tiny nudge of hope he felt. Once more he glanced around, looking for any signs of a trap. The gray wolf's doing? No, he dismissed the thought. This was too outside the other's norm to even be plausible. There was nothing to gain, or at least, nothing he could discern at the moment. Turning his eye back to the girl, he watched her for a moment. “..You should be on your way. The next town is close enough that you'll make it before night.”

It wouldn't be good for her if she were stuck out here.

To his surprise, she chuckled, if with a little exasperation.

“I see. So that's how it is, huh?” Shaking her head, she met his confused look with a sigh. “You really want to make this difficult, don't you?”

At a loss for words, he stared at her, lips slightly parted as his face went slack. It wasn't the response she seemed to be going for, but she nodded to herself all the same. Reaching out, her fingers closed around his wrist and gave it a tug. He moved, if only so that her arm didn't jostle uncomfortably. “Come on. I'll explain as we walk.”

Blinking, he drew himself up short, planting his feet. “I'm not going with you.”

“Is it because we just met?” She blinked up at him, expression open and shifting towards sheepish. Her other hand went up to her face, scratching lightly at her cheek. “Well, my name is Amelia Nile. Does that help?”

At his disbelieving stare, she hung her head for a second.

“Look. I know you're in a bad situation, Yukiya. I want to help.” This time she looked him in the eye, squeezing his wrist gently for emphasis. Her hand was warm, and he was surprised to feel the faint tingle of magic against his skin. When he glanced at her hand, then back at her face, she gave him a wan smile. “Will you walk with me so I can explain? It'll look a little odd if we're just standing here.”

He didn't move for a moment, eye falling to her hand around his wrist once more. She had magic, he was sure about that, but it didn't feel like a charm spell. But she didn't feel like others he'd spoken to who had magic either. Testing her grip, he tried to pull his wrist free. She let him go without resistance, merely watching his face with a hopeful expression on her own.

“There isn't a cure for what I have.” He kept his tone even, watching her for any change. “So don't try to tell me that.”

“I wasn't going to.” The corners of her eyes turned down, sadness overtaking her. “You're right about that.. There's no way to undo your curse. But.. there is something that can be done about it. A kind of compromise, if you want to think of it that way.”

Compromise? His head tilted without him being aware of it, betraying his curiosity.

“Walk with me.” She smiled, radiant again as if she'd never been upset at all.

Unsure, but curious, he slowly nodded.

 

The path crunched beneath their feet as they walked, fallen leaves crackling with their dryness. He'd resisted at first, when she'd started to lead him back the way he'd come from, but now they walked side by side easily. Yukiya was nearly silent, occasionally looking around. Amelia let herself take a deep breath, trying to find the proper words to begin.

“Have you ever heard of a contract, Yukiya?” She glanced at him, finding him watching her with curious intensity. For a moment he looked unsure, but nodded once. That was surprising, and she knew it showed on her face.

“A witch offered me something like that.” He elaborated, tone carefully neutral. “Like eating a lotus petal, she said.”

The young fae froze in her tracks, a sweeping coldness taking hold of her from head to toe. Yukiya stopped as well, stoic features adopting a look of concern at her sudden stop. She couldn't help it when she grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. Her voice had a note of fear when she spoke, unprofessional as it was. “You told her no, right? You didn't actually agree, did you?”

His eye wide, arm stiff in response to her sudden touch, the blue-haired man slowly shook his head.

The relief was immediate and heady for the fairy, making her knees buckle a little. Yukiya surprised her by catching her shoulder, like he was afraid she would fall.

“That's.. not a contract?” He sounded confused.

Amelia felt like she could hug him for his good common sense, but refrained, straightening up and smiling at him. “No. What that witch wanted to do was enslave you, especially if she mentioned eating a lotus.” Her face drew up in a look of disgust, and she squeezed his hand gently. “Doing that robs a person of their free will, if they've had enough exposure. They'll do anything for it, and not remember anything afterwards, or care for that matter. I'm so glad that you said no, Yukiya.” Her smile grew and he looked away, shoulders rising up almost defensively. Or like he was embarrassed.

“It didn't seem like a good idea.”

He was cute, she decided.

“It wouldn't have been. A contract, between a human and a magical creature, or two people and with one of their familiars, is where an agreement is made to.. share power, sometimes. A wizard or wizardess can make a contract with a magical creature and share their magical power, draw out their familiar's latent abilities. That's what magical beast tamers do, more or less.”

He nodded with her explanation, gaze steady and interested.

“Now for a contract between two humans and a magical creature, that's a little more complicated.” She frowned, tapping her lips. “It can be done as a means to draw out the abilities of all involved, if they have magic of some kind. The magical beast can be the focal point, but one of the people involved tends to be the main contractee.”

She swung her arms, sighing.

“I don't understand.” At least he was honest about it, she could give him that.

Pausing in her step, she pursed her lips in thought. He stopped as well, turning to face her.

As she let her eyes roam, she thought she could see hope in his face. Maybe the direct approach really was best, in this case?

“Yukiya.. you know that since you've been bitten you've changed, right?” Wishing there was a better way to put it, she winced a little as he retreated behind his stoic expression. But he nodded, eye narrowed as if in pain. Drawing in a breath, she braced herself for the rest. “As you are now, you count as a creature of magic to an extent. If you were willing,” here she paused, once again examining his face, “you could make a contract with person who has magic, and they could lessen your curse to an extent. It isn't a cure,” she hurried to state, “but it's possible you wouldn't have to worry about hurting anyone. You'd be like a familiar, sort of. Drawing off their magic, you could even turn back. If you're willing to try, at least.”

There, it was out. She waited, trying not to shuffle her feet nervously.

Yukiya looked.. a little overwhelmed, yes. She understood, it was a lot to take in. Especially since it concerned his future, his everything.

He looked at the ground, one hand idly plucking the strap of the bag he carried. Silence stretched out between them, broken by the scurrying of animals in the trees. Amelia's wings itched against her back, eager to be freed and aired out, to flap and shimmer with her magic. She ignored it, for the most part, dropping her gaze so that he didn't feel like she was staring him down.

“I want to believe you.” His voice startled her after what felt like several minutes of quiet, nearly making her jump. He looked up from the ground, uncertainty written clearly across his pale face. She waited, sensing he had more to say. Eventually, he pressed on. “But I would have to do whatever this person wanted, wouldn't I? If they were even willing to help me.”

“Sort of.” Lightly scuffing her shoe, she continued. “The person you might make a contract with could change you back with a command, but in your case they wouldn't be able to force you into one form or another. That takes consent, a mutual exchange between the partners of the contract. You could refuse, if you wanted. They can't take your will from you with the contract.”

He listened, slowly nodding in understanding. Or so she hoped.

“Anyone who has magic can do this?”

“Yes and no.” Pleased with the question, she straightened. “Anyone with magic can try and make a contract, but whether or not it will be effective depends on their level of mastery. And the creature they want to contract. It takes years to really develop the talent for taming magical creatures, if that's the route someone wants to go, but it isn't strictly necessary.”

“And for me?” He glanced away, as if he didn't want to be caught asking the question.

“Almost anyone would do.” She spoke gently, letting her eyes linger on the bag slung across his shoulders for a moment. “Did you have someone in mind?”

His eye searched her face at that, wary.

“Isn't that why you've been leading me back to that house?”

Found out, she paused, a guilty look passing over her face. Coughing into her hand, she looked away, sheepish. “Sort of.”

“Did you think I wouldn't notice?” His voice was closer than before and she jumped, turning her head in time to see him reach out. At first she didn't understand, then his fingers gingerly pinched the base of her wing. Pain blossomed from the area, followed by a disturbing numbness that froze her limbs. She whimpered, nausea roiling in her stomach.

If he broke off her wing she would really be in trouble.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, okay?” Wincing, Amelia tried to shift her shoulder, hissing when a jolt of pain spread through the muscles instead. “Please let go, Yukiya, that really hurts!”

He did, eye widening slightly. She didn't pay it much mind, relieved to have full motor control again. Her arms curled back, hands gently rubbing small circles over her back, avoiding the edges of her wings. The one he'd pinched still hurt, a dull throb now.

“How'd you guess?” Looking at him, she saw his face settle into the stoic mask again.

With a shrug, he glanced away. “Your magic felt different.”

Her eyes widened, realization creeping through her. It wasn't something she'd considered, that he might be able to sense magic. But if he could sense that, then...

“Let me guess. I smell different too.”

He nodded, still staring at her.

“Okay. I owe you.” Drawing in a slow breath, she faced him, wings twitching against her skin as she slowly lowered her hands. “I'm a fairy, you've figured out that much. I'm just of the kind that helps people.. But I won't be called a 'godmother' for a while yet. Haven't found the right guy.” She winked, pleased to see a hint of pink enter his cheeks despite his serious expression. “And I want to help you. I've been trying actually,” propping a hand on one hip, she let herself sigh. “But you refuse, or just walk away. And I actually started to wonder if you hated me.”

As she put a finger to her chin, his eye widened the faintest bit, like he couldn't believe what she was saying.

“Hate you?” Bless him, he even sounded confused.

“It happens sometimes, Yukiya.” Amelia shrugged. “And if it does we might cry a little and then pick ourselves up. But,” opening her eyes, she felt her expression fall a little. “I've talked it over with someone who knows a lot more than me. They're actually the one who mentioned the idea of a contract, because I was out of ideas. It's a risk, yes, but.. it could work. If you're willing.”

“Why can't I contract you then?” His head tipped to the side.

“Because my magic is fickle and making a contract with me could worsen your condition.” Guiltily, she looked away. “Fairies and werewolves don't mix, and long-time exposure to my magic could make you sick, or hurt you.”

“Why that girl in particular?”

Scratching her cheek, the girl at her feet. “I'm a sucker for certain things, I'll admit. But, she's the closest wizardess and tomorrow is the full moon.” Looking up at him, she dropped her hand. “I can help you, travel-wise. My teleport spells are really good!” Puffing herself up with pride, she placed both hands on her hips and smiled wide. His only reaction was a slightly bemused tilt of his head, eye slowly blinking.

Rolling her eyes lightly, she elaborated, “I can use that spell to get you somewhere faster. It has a limit though.” Dropping her hands to her sides, she continued. “Getting you to the next town is about what I can do on my own. You'll arrive safely, but it'll be up to you to find someplace to stay until the moon passes into the next phase. Or I can send you back there, if you like. It's a one-way thing though, so you'll only get one choice.”

“You're not going to push me into the contract?” He shifted his weight, hand on the bag's strap again.

“No. That's a choice only you can make.” Folding her arms, she waited.

His gaze darted around, but didn't linger on anything. Silence reigned once more between them, aside from the wind and animals passing by. She wondered how much he could hear, from within the woods surrounding them. What all he could smell, though she envied him considerably less on that front. What was his eyesight like, and did it hurt to cover up the other one?

“What if she says no? I'll be back at square one.” Eye boring into hers, he straightened up as he spoke, like he was preparing himself for something. Amelia allowed herself a little smile, swaying in place as she watched him. “I don't think she'll say no, if you ask.”

He didn't look convinced, but some of the uneasiness left his posture.

“Do it.”

“You're sure? I won't be able to plop you back here, big guy.” Letting her smile grow a little, the fairy lifted her hands, light shimmering in the air around them. He simply nodded, hands curling loosely at his sides.

“Alright. See you soon, I hope.” Pouring more of her magic into the spell, the light grew brighter around her hands, leaving them to surround the blue-haired man instead. He glanced at the swirls and eddies, unnerved, but didn't move. It took a lot of mental effort, but with a firm picture in her mind she cast the spell – only barely aware that her lips were moving, speaking words that must sound like gibberish to him if he could hear.

A 'pop' echoed back to her ears, like she'd changed altitudes, and he was gone. All that remained was an empty space, and she felt the drain on her magic instantly. Tremor's wracked her arms and legs, wings shuddering against her back now that she'd allowed them freedom. Closing her eyes, she took several slow, deep breaths and carefully flexed her fingers. They curled and uncurled with her command, no sign of cramping like the first time.

“Well, here's hoping.”

 

“Did he get there all right?” a weary voice inquired, a thread of hope peeking through the symptoms of magical exhaustion. It was answered by a soft laugh, the gentle clink of china on china. Brown eyes peered up at the taller figure, eyelids heavy but stubbornly staying open.

“He did. From here, we can only wait.”

Amusement coated the other speaker's voice, but the young lady lacked the energy to be upset by it. Satisfied with the answer, she closed her eyes and leaned back, gently pressing into the softness of her chair. It felt like heaven after the long trip back to hand in her report.

“If his name shows up on the list again, can I pass?” The question left her almost absently, as if she were addressing the air itself.  
“Would you prefer being assigned Conrad Schuyler instead?”

The reaction was immediate. Bolting upright in her chair, Amelia stared at her boss in something close to horror. “Do I look like a miracle worker?! I'd probably have to make a contract with some creepy cat-creature that would try and turn me into some magical soldier or something to even begin!”

Laughing now, her superior set the teacup and saucer down with care, white teeth flashing in the bright sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's ok to laugh at the reference.


	8. Conrad Schuyler - Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once, he was a Royal Wizard.

“Conrad Schuyler?” He turns at the sound of a voice, blue eyes fixing on a man not much older than him; uniform of a Royal Attendant Wizard neat and crisp of the stranger's broad frame. Quashing a s sense of unease, he turned to face the speaker fully, resisting the urge to cross his arms defensively. “Yes?”

The man's eyes are a dark brown, black hair cut short, unlike his own. Despite his size, there seemed to be an aura of calm around the other wizard, as if his patience might outlast anything thrown at him. Briefly, Conrad wondered if he'd made some misstep to be addressed so publicly. Amusement registered in the man's eyes before his weight shifted, body turning to walk away. “With me, if you will. It won't be long.”

Sparing a glance towards the corridor he was intending to transverse, the slightly shorter wizard followed. People passed them by without acknowledging either of them, servants and others like himself and his companion. Their charges all kept their own schedules, with allowance towards the hours of court and special occasions. Princess Aulelia would already be awake, he thought, and he now regretted not asking for a moment to send her a magic note to inform her he would be tardy.

The notion didn't sit well with him, but he would bear it.

They stopped when they reached a set of double doors leading to an office he'd not seen before. It wasn't uncommon for Attendant wizards to have an office space to call their own, he himself had never mingled much with others of his rank. The space was arranged ot house a desk as well as a small table and comfortable-looking chairs. A bookshelf dominated one wall, at a glance he spotted textbooks mixed in with historical, and practical, texts.

“Please, take a seat. As I said, I shan't keep you long.” The man moved towards his desk, bending to open a drawer, or so Conrad presumed. Taking a seat, he let his eyes roam about the neat, if slightly dim, space. After a moment, the other man straightened and took a seat of his own across from his guest. In his hands was a slim book, pages faintly showing yellow from age, yet the cover was a soft-looking black. Leather, perhaps?

Brown eyes raised to meet intrigued blue, broad features arranged into neutrality. Lifting the book in one gloved hand the man asked, “Do you have an idea of what this is?”

He scanned the item carefully, spotting no embellishments of any sort, no title. It could be a simple journal for private use, or enchanted to seem that way. But even when he tried to extend his senses to perceive the book's true shape, short of using his wand, it remained the same. For lack of a better answer, feeling that he'd missed some important point, the younger man answered, “A journal.”

The other Attendant's lips twitched. “Of a sort, yes. You needn't look so hesitant.”

Setting the book between them, the man reached to his side, fingers curling as if unhooking something. Conrad felt himself stiffen, sensing _something_ but unable to name it. What slid into view, practically from thin air itself, was not what he expected, however.

A lantern, metal-framed and glass so clear it almost seemed to not be there at all. It was perhaps as large as both his hands, if he were to cup them together; within the confines of the glass there was a tall candle, white, and at the top burned a steady flame. He let himself stare at it, thin brows drawing together. The flame never wavered, even as the lantern swayed gently in the other man's grip, large fingers wound through the circular handle at the top of the metal frame.

He could sense something ancient about it, though even that was enough to make his insides clench uncomfortably. As he continued to stare, the flame's color began to shift – pale gold turning blue at the base, where the wick would be. The color moved upward, impossibly, until the entire flame was a haunting blue. Stories flew to mind, of magical creatures that led people astray by the light of candle-flame, of what it means when the fire burns blue.

Marshaling his alarm, Conrad took a subtle breath, fingers twitching towards his wand.

“You truly are something.” The other man regarded him with a calm smile, but he had undergone some change – something had shifted, just as the flame had. The stranger's Attendant uniform no longer seemed to fit, appearing more like a costume than the mark of an elite knight-wizard.

On his back, there was a scythe, the blade gleaming eerily in the candlelight.

“What are you?” It was more of a fight to keep his voice steady than he'd like to admit. Muscles tense, blue eyes flicked once between the scythe and the lantern, then returning to the taller man's face. If not a wisp, then there was only a select few of other beings the stranger might embody. None of them, so far as he knew, were very susceptible to the magic he knew and used.

“My name is Desmond Greaves.” The man leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees and laced his fingers together. He spoke as if to a friend, albeit one in need of soothing. “I was, and still am, a Royal Attendant Wizard like yourself. I just happen to be a grim reaper as well.” He paused there, frowning in contemplation. Briefly, his hands tightened, as if he were restraining himself from saying something.

“You have served Princess Aulelia for six years now, have you not?”

Thrown by the question, Conrad blinked. The answer, of course, was simple. “I have.” He braced himself, glancing once more at the lantern and suppressing a chill. “Have you come to relieve me of that duty?”

Further surprising him, a thin smile spread over Desmond's face; whether that was the man's, no, the reaper's real name or not remained to be seen. Regardless, the other seemed to have steadied himself against whatever emotion had seized him previously. “No. If I were here for your soul we would be having a very different kind of discussion.”

“Is that so?” Allowing coolness to settle into his voice, Conrad leaned back in his seat carefully. “Then why reveal yourself to me?”

A chuckle passed the man's lips, and he sat back as well. The scythe didn't appear to impede him at all, and Conrad wondered if it was only solid when the reaper needed it to be.

“You've proven yourself loyal to the Princess, but I'm afraid I will be adding a heavier burden to your shoulders. You see,” he gestured to the lantern and its flame, “among our ranks if a flame turns blue then another will be joining us. This does not mean you will die, Conrad. You will still be as you are now, living at least.” A bit of dark humor entered Desmond's eyes, leaving the shorter man vaguely annoyed.

“You're saying that I must abandon my duty here to reap souls?” The edge of a scoff entered his voice and he raised his chin, narrowing his gaze. “I swore my oath to the Royal Family first. I've no time for this.”

“I'm afraid you will have to make time, Conrad.” His tone brooked no argument and the young man found himself sitting straighter, nearly abashed and unsure why. “I will be instructing you as a reaper, as there are a great deal of rules and things that can go wrong.” Desmond paused long enough to release a sigh, hands resting on his knees. “You won't be reaping anyone yet. Not until you've completed the necessary training. As for your duties to the Princess and Her Family...” He shrugged. “I have served longer than one King's reign. Usually it is not a difficult thing, to juggle between being an Attendant and a reaper.”

“Usually?” The younger man quirked a brow.

“The hardest part will be letting them go. I won't lie to you about that.” Sadness made Desmond's expression darker for a moment, before it passed. “But we are not truly immortal either, whatever that may be worth to you.”

Looking away, Conrad studied the journal on the table. It seemed... ridiculous, really. What was the proof?

“How do you know I am the one meant to join you? Other than the flame, which I have no means of verifying for myself, I am led to question your information.” Lifting his gaze, he watched Desmond reach for the book. Gloved fingers easily opened it, flipping through the pages. Once he found what he was looking for he offered it to him to read.

Hesitant, he took it.

His name was on the page, along with the date of his birth. To his relief, however, there was no date of death. Beneath his name was the location of his birthplace, the names of his family, and a summary of his deeds. Memories stirred at the back of his mind, brought to the fore by the words. Childish things he'd forgotten, habits he'd formed as he studied and tried to better himself.

By his thumb began the paragraph which told the day he became a Royal Wizard, and entered the Princess' service. His eyes lingered there, disbelief apparent on his face but he couldn't think to do anything about it. Several more lines in, the words became indistinct, harder to read.

One sentence did not.

_11th of May, in the Year of - , Conrad Schuyler is apprenticed to Desmond Greaves as a reaper of souls._

“The page is incomplete, of course, because you have not lived your full life yet.” The other man's voice brought his attention from the page, making him realize how tightly he was grasping the book. The pages should be crinkling with the stress, but his fingers didn't seem to mar them at all.

“Yet?” the word left him as a croak.

“Since that book is mine, you won't find much else. The names on the list of Life and Death will not be visible to you until you receive your own.” Sympathy and resignation flickered over Desmond's face, making him look terribly old for a moment – though not a speck of gray could be seen in his hair.

“When will that happen?” Making himself relax his hand, Conrad watched the other's face, searching for a lie.

“First, your training. We'll meet here for the time being.” Holding out his hand for the book, Desmond arranged his features back into the neutrality he'd first been greeted with. “Once you've completed that, you will receive your book, scythe, and most importantly, your lantern. I should not have to say this, but if you mention this to anyone it will not go well.” The man's tone held no threat, only fact.

“And the Princess?”

A shrug of the shoulders was his first answer. “Nothing need change between the two of you. She cannot know what you are, of course, but you remain her Attendant and friend.”

The last word made the shorter man shift, embarrassment slipping through the reigns of his usual stoic expression. “I'm her servant. She has never mentioned the idea of friendship to me.”

Desmond fixed him with a long, blank look, as if Conrad had just announced the day's weather would consist of goose eggs dropping from the sky. Conrad shifted awkwardly beneath the stare, arms crossing defensively. Unable to keep himself from snapping, he narrowed his gaze. “What?!”

“You're blind and your walls are needlessly high, my friend.” The other man snickered. One hand raised, a distinct shooing gesture directed the younger man's way. “But go. You'll miss breakfast with her if you stay any longer.”

Standing, making use of his self-control Conrad made his way to the door. No parting words followed after him, so he hurried towards the Princess' favorite haunt for the mornings. He resolved to put it from his mind, this business of reapers and impossible things.

Absently, he dropped a hand to his hip, tips of his fingers nearly ghosting over the metal frame of a lantern not quite formed.

-

Aulelia's brown eyes fixed on him as soon as he entered the room, a tiny smile quirking her lips before she hid it behind the rim of her cup. A maid bustled around the small table, eyes down and hands moving as she set out the dishes. Relief pushed some of the anxiety from his mind, his own hands straightening his collar out of habit before he bowed. “I apologize for my tardiness, Princess. Another Attendant asked for my presence and did not allow the time for me to send a note ahead.”

A giggle reached his ears and he felt his face burn for a moment, not daring to rise until it passed. When he looked up, the princess was smiling openly at him, pale hands folded neatly in her lap. The emeralds she wore as earrings caught the light as she tilted her head, something warm brightening her eyes.

“You're hardly late, Conrad. But if you insist on apologizing I will accept it.” She gestured for him to take his seat and he did, trying to loosen the knot of tension between his shoulders. They ate in silence for the most part after that, the occasional soft word from her and a nod or reserved response from him. The maid waited until they were done and cleaned up before she left, the austerity of her uniform a contrast to the softer colors of the room the princess had chosen.

“Was something the matter, Conrad Are you well?” he looked up at that, forgetting to stop toying with his cufflink. There was concern in her eyes, for all her face was composed. Several things came to mind – any secrets between them were the ones she asked him to keep, as he'd had none of his own until now. His lips thinned to a line, some muscle in his chest twinging at the notion of lying.

“A reminder not to neglect my duties, Princess. That is all.”

He wasn't sure if she would believe it, and tried not to wince under her measured stare.

Her face softened at the edges, gracing him with one of her gentle smiles. “Perhaps instead someone should tell you to take a break from them once in a while.”

He chuckled, the sound uncomfortable and short as it left his throat. She didn't ask him about it again, and they eventually readied themselves to greet the rest of the obligations of the day. At noon he found a note slipped between the pages of the book he'd intended to study while the Princess entertained her siblings. The writing was unfamiliar, but the name at the bottom was not.

_Since you attend the Princess we'll meet at nine this evening. The only thing you need is your wand. -Desmond Greaves_

Studying the note for a long moment, he glanced up towards the assembled members of the Royal Family. None of them looked his way, their Attendants either at their charge's side or lingers on the outskirts of the room. He slipped the paper into his breast pocket, resolving to burn it later.

-

Life developed a routine quickly enough. He rose early to greet the Princess and often joined her for breakfast. When the occasion called for her to dine with her family he stayed at his post by her right shoulder, scanning the heads at the table and faces which moved about. Desmond Greaves, he learned, attended to the Queen's younger sister; words were few between them but she was clearly at ease with his presence, barely batting an eye when he stood beside her.

Desmond spared him a glance, once, over the woman's head but his expression remained utterly placid.

He did his best to keep it the same on his own.

Once the day passed and their wards retired, he met with the older man in his office; hours of history and lecture passing before either of them would sleep. Aulelia questioned the darkness under his eyes several times, once brushing a soft hand against his forehead to check for fever. He recalled apologizing, citing unpleasant dreams as the cause.

The next day she presented him with an aria penned by her own hand, her voice soft with concern when she asked him to use it. He'd refused at first, partially embarrassed that she expended that sort of effort on him – arias being a form of magic not easily learned by many. Aulelia insisted, lightly pushing the paper into his hands before she left for court.

He'd trailed after her, an odd mix of emotions in his gut.

-

Perhaps it was his imagination, but the Princess seemed to be smiling more. Her eyes lingered over the flowers in the garden, for no particular reason. If she heard music, she would giggle if it were possible to do so unnoticed by anyone else. Once, she asked him if he had a particular favorite in foods for a picnic and laughed as he'd fumbled to answer.

He paid more attention to the people she spoke with at court, who her eyes lingered on. Of course, she had secrets she couldn't, or wouldn't, share with him. There were things he was not supposed to know.

But this worried him, because the King had made his stance on any courtships not approved by his own decree quite clear; Aulelia was aware of that, he knew. She loved, however, and loved hard.

Once he'd begun to look closely enough, it became apparent who the object of her affection was. A young man close to her own age, a member at court that she'd been acquainted with for as long as Conrad had known her – possibly longer, even. The man had green eyes, striking in their brightness and he tended to carry an easel out with him if the weather were fair enough. From where the Princess had recently taken to having tea, it was easy enough to watch the courtier as he sketched.

Conrad watched the Princess hum over her tea, eyes far from the table and mind farther still and held his tongue.

If she asked him his opinion, he could only wish she be discrete, for her sake.

-

The Princess invited him to a private dinner one evening, once he'd explained to Desmond the older man had said not to worry. The hardest part of being a reaper was the actual reaping, or so he'd claimed. Put-off, Conrad took the stairs a little more quickly than he would have normally. Aulelia smiled when he came in, surprising him by being in one of her informal gowns. It made him feel stuffy in his Attendant's uniform, but even given the option he wouldn't have dressed down.

Her cheeks were pink and she seemed happier than ever.

“Has something good happened, Princess?” He let himself sit once she urged him, back lightly resting against the chair more for the reminder to sit straight rather than comfort. She laughed quietly at that, reaching over to lift the cover of his plate herself and setting it aside. His stomach grumbled at the sight of the food and he felt his cheeks burn, waiting for the embarrassment to pass before meeting the Princess' eye.

“You could say that I wanted to celebrate with my dear friend.” She spared him the jibe she could have easily made, instead uncovering her own plate and spreading out her napkin. He picked up his fork as she did, though he waited to actually eat anything.

“The occasion is..?” Tone cautious, he scanned her face, wondering what seemed to be different.

“Well, since you have been observing me more closely than usual I believe you have an idea.” He thought he heard a slight rebuke there, but didn't dig too deeply into it. She chewed a morsel slowly, eyes unfocusing for a moment. When her attention returned, she looked him over as if it were the first time she'd seen him properly.

He lowered his eyes to his plate and kept them there.

“Have you always been so shy, Conrad?” Teasing, she was teasing him. About this, again. “Surely there must be someone you are comfortable enough with to not be so formal?”

“Apologies, Princess, but that is not the case.” He didn't have the childishness in him to mumble, not to her.

“Someday, Conrad, perhaps you will.” When he glanced up, he saw her eyes curving up at the corners as she sipped her drink.

“Is that how you feel with him, Princess? Enough to make the risk worth it?” Lowering his fork, he felt his appetite diminish. Aulelia fixed him with a contemplative stare, something in her eyes sliding away from him, being hidden in a place he couldn't reach. She set her glass down, watching the liquid move before it settled.

“You truly do have a keen eye, my friend.” Folding her hands, she leaned back and met his gaze. He found himself looking for some mark, some physical evidence of the change which had come on over the past months. She held herself no differently than usual, almost relaxed beneath his scrutiny.

Her lips quirked. “My answer to your question is yes. He makes me that happy, so happy I could burst. Whatever happens, will you remain with me?”

“Of course, Princess.” The edges of his mouth quirked for the briefest of seconds, close enough to a smile that her eyes widened, her whole face lighting up from within like a candle.

It was good enough for him.

-

The morning Aulelia fell ill he felt the worry return full force. Her maid had ushered him from the room, declaring it an issue which had no need of magic being involved. He'd stood, staring at the now closed door, wincing in sympathy at what he could hear. The maid left twice, once to the kitchens and the second on some private request of the Princess. Both times the woman pinned him with a glare that stopped him from opening the door.

At least until she was out of hearing range.

The handle turned easily under his hand, stepping into the room he immediately noticed that a window had been cracked in an attempt to air out the smell of sick. Aulelia herself remained in her bed, shivering, hair a tangled mess.

She reached for his hand as soon as he was near and he found himself brave enough to give the limb a gentle squeeze in return.

“Are you..?” He couldn't say it, not here, where all manner of ears could listen.

The Princess met with her courtier, he knew. He wasn't blind. She'd told him herself what she felt, and what came after that had seemed to make her happy; he'd only got rid of what evidence might be circumstantial enough to prove harmful.

He wanted her to remain happy for as long as possible.

She gave his hand a tight squeeze, holding on for several long seconds as she got her breath back. Brushing her hair back, he could see the dark flush on her cheeks and where it had crept down her neck. Brown eyes blinked up at him, his glove catching briefly in her hair.

For someone who had been vomiting for most of the morning, she hadn't lost the glow he'd glimpsed before.

“Thank you, Conrad.”

“Of course.”

-

He'd been surprised at how easy it was the first months to hide the evidence. Little changed at first, only he and a select few aware of the condition. Desmond had inquired about the Princess' health at the first night of training he'd been able to attend after the Princess' first experience with morning sickness. He cited a poor reaction to foreign cuisine, surprising himself at how easily the lie rolled off his tongue.

Desmond only studied him for a moment before letting it slide, returning him to the current task of manifesting his scythe.

Frankly, he disliked how it felt in his hands; the magic, if it could be called that, within the artifact stirring an uncomfortable numbness whenever he wielded it. It cut cleanly through stone or steel, taking the breath from whatever living thing it touched. And, Desmond explained, it was one of the few tools that could kill a reaper as well. He'd stared at it then, shuddering. His mentor had explained the process of leading a soul to the other side, the many names it was called and what they meant.

He hadn't asked when he might be tasked with his first reaping, Desmond as well offered no insight.

The lantern hung at his hip now, unseen to any but a fellow reaper. It could not be sensed by magic, unless the spell stemmed from the darker arts, the kind used by necromancers and dark wizards. The older man said that it was possible he might face someone of that caliber, as practitioners of the forbidden arts often sought means to cheat death. He'd also explained what methods he might use to defend himself from such spells, and to what extent each method would work.

To snuff out a reaper's lantern extinguished the soul – a near instant death from which, like a normal mortal, there could be no revival. For a reaper who attempted to change the fate of one written in the book, both of Life or Death, the punishment was just that – the lantern taken by the Council of some of the oldest, most knowledgeable reapers and the flame put out, the remainder to be hidden away so that the artifact's remaining power could not be used.

The book he would carry would hold the names of the people he would need to release, Desmond demonstrated the method with his own lantern; a promise that he would accompany the man on one such event lingering in the air. It was no complicated method, a mere release of the hatch and holding the lantern close enough to the person ready to pass on – the soul would do the rest on its own, normally.

For the abnormal cases, by magical influence or intervention, it was the scythe which could end their resistance.

He pushed the thought from his mind often, unwilling to dwell on it for long.

-

Their good fortune saw its end towards the autumn of the sixth month. The Princess' belly swelled too large to be unnoticeable, bouts of sickness becoming more frequent. On the one hand, Conrad wanted to thank the Dragon of Time that it had even taken so long for the King to notice. On the other, he feared what the King might do. If he would chance the Princess' well-being to be rid of the child before it was born.

Aulelia, if she felt such fear, did not deign to show it. He wondered if that was, in part, due to the child growing inside of her or it if was just her natural courage showing through.

The father, having been found out, fled the court and no one had heard of him since.

That, or, he had been found and the King had meted out some punishment he believed fitting for fathering a child with an unwed princess. Conrad chose not to dwell on that either, refusing to give in to the temptation to check the book he carried with him.

He stayed close to the Princess, close enough that if some attempt was made to sweep the scandal aside he might have some vague chance of stopping it. For that, she teased him for being a mother hen, feathers all ruffled and spurs bared.

It wasn't until the end of her eighth month that she asked him to take care of her child, regardless of what happened to her. Protect and care for the little prince, the center of her world.

He swore it.

When her son was born, she named him Luciano Ordeus Gedonelun and gave him one of her emerald earrings as a keepsake. The other, she gave to him, so that they'd each have a piece of her. There wasn't much time for her to see her son, not with the King ordering the child to be driven from the Royal Family, by death if need be. When she gave the boy to him, he hesitated, unsure of how to hold the newborn.

Her hands were gentle as she guided him through the act of cradling the lad's head, tufts of emerald green hair sticking up in all directions as if exposed to lightning. Eyes of the same color had peered at them, tiny mouth moving in nonsensical ways which bemused him.

“Don't be so afraid of him, Conrad.” The heat of her palm seeped into his skin as she rested it on his arm, still looking down at the tiny bundle he was holding. Her smile only faded with her next question, “Have you thought of what to call him?”

“Luca.” He answered, awkwardly bouncing the babbling princeling. “I've found a caretaker for him for when I can't be with him.”

“Luca.” Her voice trailed off, one finger tracing path over the wrinkles in the infant's forehead.

He wished he could give them more time, but if this plan was to work then they needed to leave. Aulelia smiled up at him once more time, her eyes misty, and wished him and her son safety. Making sure that no one would speak of this, he snuck the child out of the castle and began the journey to an older one that the Royal Family rarely used.

The road was long, he came to understand why parents got so little rest when they decided to have children. Luca cried intermittently, tiny lungs capable of producing outstanding levels of noise when the lad wished it. Much as it tested his patience, once the baby had settled he found himself examining his soft features. What bewitchment was it that babies possessed to make them fascinating, for all the trouble they caused?

The little prince had his mother's ears, that was for sure. Perhaps even her cheeks, though that would become easier to tell in the coming years as the lad grew. As for the green of his eyes and hair, one of them surely stemmed from the father.

When they reached the castle, he felt a profound sense of relief. With it, however, came anxiety, as he had to leave the child in the care of a maid. He needed to return to the Princess, keep up the appearance that all was well; being so far from his new charge tugged at his sense of responsibility but he couldn't simply split himself in two so as to occupy separate spaces at once.

The woman assured him that all would be well, that the child would be claimed as a servant's if any questions were raised.

He laid several enchantments about the boy, both to soothe his own mind and to alert him should anything happen.

-

Aulelia excused him from her service, giving instructions to fully turn his attention towards her son. She insisted that she would be fine, but he had difficulty believing it. She rarely smiled now, only to placate others. But, it was an order, her order, and he couldn't disobey.

Desmond met his eye once, as he'd left, a flash of sympathy in the man's eyes.

He didn't want to think on what it meant.

-

When the Royal Family began using the castle he'd hidden Luca in once more he felt a surge of panic, stronger than he had in years, and sent a message ahead that the boy was to be hidden in the cellar. It was a place none of the Royal Family entered, even their most trouble prone – though it was hardly an ideal place for one hardly more than an infant. He'd paid the maid well, checked the enchantments he'd left behind previously and allowed himself to breathe in slowly once he was assured all was well.

He saw his charge hardly an hour later, huddled tight under blankets and staring wide-eyed out into the dark. Green eyes latched onto him as soon as he came into view, a pale hand thrusting forward desperately. The tiny fingers grasped one of his own as soon as he allowed it, holding tighter than he'd thought the little one capable of.

In fear Luca tried to burrow into his frame, hiding himself from whatever plagued his young mind beneath layers of wool and brocade. Even through the thickness of his clothes, he thought he felt the boy shudder.

When he carefully laid a hand on the child's back, the little one began to cry, leaving him stumped and wary that the noise might filter up to prying ears.

“Hush. Luca, please.” He couldn't quite manage the gentle tone he vaguely recalled Aulelia using, but as he hesitantly started to stroke the child's back some of the crying abated. Tiny arms remained clenched around him nonetheless, but eventually he managed to get the boy to lift his head enough to be able to clean his face.

Wide emerald eyes watched his every move, making him uncomfortable but he bore it.

“There are many books here, Luca. Would you like a story?” It was one of the few things he could think of that might keep the boy's mind off his new surroundings, and seeing the interest suddenly flicker in those green eyes made the knot of tension in his chest uncoil a bit.

Indeed, it might well be described as a mountain of books that took up most of the cellar – he cast a spell for light and made a mental note to procure the child a lamp or something for when he couldn't be present. The list in his mind grew longer as he looked at Luca properly now, seeing the slightly ill-fitting clothes and the thin shape of him. The boy stared at the books as if he expected them to come alive, part in fear and otherwise in wary awe.

The first few he glanced through were textbooks, old and careworn, and he set them aside.

If he couldn't find something appropriate, he'd make something up.

A thought brushed through his mind after that, how Aulelia would have enjoyed doing such things with her son. It took some wrangling, getting Luca to keep still once he'd decided to just tell whatever tales he could remember on his own, but with the child's heaviness in his lap and a head of green hair against his chest, he dug into the memories of his own home – spinning them out as best he could.

Luca's restlessness gave way to weariness, and when he noticed that the little one's eyes had shut he carefully put him to the tiny bed of blankets the maid had prepared.

Such an arrangement couldn't last, and he needed somewhere better to hide the child until the King passed.

-

It was done, a simple letter in his hand and he sent it before he succumbed to any second thoughts. Addressed to the Headmaster of Gedonelune Royal Academy, he could only hope it might prove more beneficial than the other attempts he'd made.

When the reply came, it harbored negotiation and a new opportunity – if, he were willing to adjust to a new role.

Conrad considered it, thumb brushing over the metal of his lantern as the flame within burned steady and sent his reply via familiar.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I did this some amount of justice. I wanted to sling in some references to Randy's route in-game, so if you find them, yay! Feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
